


Fatherhood

by Shinehollow



Series: Family Ties [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, Family Bonding, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:10:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 33,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinehollow/pseuds/Shinehollow
Summary: Ethan realizes that raising a family is far harder than training an Assassin.





	1. Chapter 1

 "Are you _sure_ you're ready for this?"

 Ethan stared out the carriage window, thinking. George sat across from him, watching his old mentor's body language. "I saw the way you looked at them when they were born. Besides, they might be attached to their grandmother now." Ethan glanced at his friend, sighing. "I made a deal, George. I said I would take them back when they were six. The great Edward Kenway didn't raise his daughter until she was seven," he added, but George just shook his head.

"That is a completely different scenario. He didn't know she existed until then. You, however, are very aware they exist." He paused to take a breath, looking conflicted as he added, "And you hate them for it." He felt a rush of anger, and he glared at George, hissing "Cecily would be alive if it weren't for them!" George returned his glare calmly. " _This_ is why I asked if you were ready. A question you still haven't answered by the way," he added as Ethan turned away to look out the window with a huff. "You can't keep blaming them for the past, Ethan. What happened with Cecily was an accident. An accident I wish never happened as much as you, but it did, and now we have to live with it."

 He was right, as much as Ethan hated to admit it. He let out a dry laugh. "When did you get so wise?" he asked meekly, missing the days when he, George, and Cecily took missions together. "While you were running away avoiding all responsibility," George answered dryly.

 The carriage stopped, and George got up. "This is my stop." He walked over to the door, before turning to Ethan again. "When you meet them, not matter what you think, just remember this: they did not kill your wife. Do _not_ take it out on them." He leaped out of the carriage before Ethan could respond, slamming the door shut. The carriage started again, and Ethan cursed his friend. Maybe George didn't think he was ready, but Ethan knew for a fact he was. Training Jayadeep had shown him that. 

 He sat, riding in silence, as the carriage stopped again outside a small house surrounded by trees. He stared at it, before standing up. Usually he wasn't the type to let his nerves get to him, but this time he couldn't help himself. Years of anger towards his children turned to anxiety towards meeting them, wondering what they thought of him. If they remembered his hatred towards them.

 The driver had come around to open the carriage door, and stared as silently at Ethan as he stared at the house. "What's wrong, Mister Frye?" The driver asked, jolting the Master Assassin out of his thoughts. "Nothing," he said quickly. "Just... nerves, that's all." The driver nodded, and stood silently again as he stepped out. "I'll wait for you here," he said, closing the door. Ethan nodded. "Thanks." 

 He walked up to the door, hesitating before he knocked. He remembered when Cecily had told him she was expecting a child. They had talked about their child's future quite often, about raising it in the Brotherhood as Ethan was. He let her choose what to name them. She was so excited, more so than he was. He'd admit, he'd been a bit overprotective during her pregnancy, but it was to protect her and their child. But it was all for not. She died anyway, and now here he was, to pick up the pieces she left six years ago.

 The door opened right before he could knock, and a older woman stared at him. "You're here, finally," she said, ushering him in. "And only a day late. Surprising." 

 "I'm sorry, I was-" he stuttered, before she shushed him. "Grieving, I know." She beckoned him to follow, and she started to lead the away down the hall. "Have you visited her grave yet?" Guilt flooded through him. He'd spent the sixth anniversary of her death like he always did, sitting in a pub, blocking out everyone and everything. "No." She shook her head. "Of course you haven't," she muttered. He didn't feel it wise to respond. 

 She led the way into a small sitting room, where a boy and a girl were trying to get up onto the mantle, the boy standing on the girl's shoulders. "Nearly there," he muttered. "Jacob! Evie! Enough of that!" the woman snapped, and the two fell into a pile of the floor. The woman glanced at Ethan. "They're good climbers. The only probably is that they love to climb anything," she muttered, and, louder, she called out to them again. "Come here. There's someone I want you to meet."

 After some hesitation and quiet whispering, the children got up and walked over. Their names were the ones Cecily had wanted, one for if she had a girl, one for if she had a boy.  _Evie, life._ The older one, if he remembered correctly. She looked a lot like Cecily.  _Jacob, supplanter._ A fitting name for an Assassin. He had a challenging look in his eyes as he stared at Ethan, unfazed by the cut on his forehead he had gotten from slamming his head against the fireplace as they fell. Where did he get that from? Himself? Or Cecily?

 "This is your father, Ethan," the woman said, gesturing at Ethan. "I told you about him, remember?" The twins stared silently, until Jacob asked, "You mean the one who ran away?" The older woman glared at him. "Jacob! Manners! He didn't run away. He had business to attend to at his job. Isn't that right, Ethan?" She asked, turning to Ethan with a look that Ethan could only describe as  _you better lie to them._ "Yes, I was," Ethan said, turning to look at his children again. "I really regret being away this long, but I'm here now." Jacob glanced at his sister before looking at the floor. "Whatever." 

 He crouched down to their height. Jacob lifted is head again, with that same challenging look in his eyes. Ethan glanced at Evie, relived to see that none of Jacob's spite was in her eyes, only curiosity. He held out his arms. "Can I get a hug?" The twins glanced at each other again, before walking over and hugging him. Jacob seemed to be squeezing him a little too hard, either he was worried his father would disappear again, or he wanted to break a bone in his body, but Ethan didn't mind. He still felt his anger towards his twins, but it seemed more like grief now. Grief, that, because of these two, Cecily wouldn't be around to raise them. But, he could. Cecily would've wanted that, he could see that now.

 The twins stepped back, and Ethan smiled at them. "How about we head home now, hmm?"


	2. Chapter 2

In the six months after taking the twins under his wing he’d learned several interesting-and sometimes irritating things- about them.

Their personalities were quite different. Jacob was a fighter, and he wasn’t much for following rules. No matter how much Ethan tried to scold him, he’d usually end up doing the same things, sometimes with a higher level of danger, as if to taunt his father. He didn’t seem to like Ethan very much, and didn’t take to Ethan’s teachings. Evie was a thinker, who would sometimes come up with some of the smarter, but still infuriating, plans of theirs. She liked Ethan, and listened to him fondly. Despite their differences, however, the twins were very close. One would usually never be without the other, unless they were planning something or the other was lying hurt.

Which also happened more than he’d liked. Jacob tended to be the one to get into the big spills, but he usually never cried too much about it, only walked up to Ethan and show him the scrape or cut without saying a word. The young lad already had a scar on his chin, and Ethan feared he’d have much more before he came of age if he kept daring himself to do more stunts.

The twins were uncannily great at sneaking. They were almost better than some older, highly trained Assassins, Ethan had to admit. They were good enough to make him suspect they had the gift of his, but even then, he’d never been able to tell what room his parents were in, like the twins seemed to be able to do. He’d ask them of that later, when they began their training. Right now he had to focus on them not abusing their possible gift. 

Raising a child-let alone twins- was a lot harder then he'd suspected it to be, and he was beginning to think George was right to believe he was not ready.

* * *

 

 He came back from work at the school one weary, dreary day to find George sitting in the living room. He stared at his old friend, surprised, until the sounds of his kids footsteps on the floor above shook him from his silence. "You should really stop doing that," he said, setting his bag down and walking over to sit across from his friend. George smiled faintly. "You trained me to do that."

 "That I did," sighed Ethan, sitting heavily down on the couch. "What are you doing here anyway, George?" 

 "Seeing how you're getting along. It's been six months and they aren't dead, so I take that as a good sign," George said, before looking around and leaning forward. "When are you going to start their training?" he asked quietly. Ethan stared at his friend, incredulous. "George. They're _six_." George leaned back, shrugging. "Never too young to learn. You started with Jayadeep when he was just four." Ethan shook his head. "That was different." 

 "Not really," George said, tilting his head to the side. "You could at least start them on wooden swords, couldn't you? Release some of their energy." Ethan shrugged. "I suppose," he muttered. George seemed pleased by that answer, as he changed to subject. "So, when will I meet these Frye twins? Are they like you, or like Cecily?" 

 "A combination of both. Jacob's more of a troublemaker, while Evie's slightly less, but she tends to tag along with Jacob and her smarts make their plans  _that_ much worse," Ethan said, surprised by the pride in his voice. George seemed surprised too, as he chuckled, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd see the day that you'd talk about your children like that." He sudden grew somber, staring at Ethan quite intently. "How are you getting along?"

  _He means about Cecily,_ Ethan realized with a start. A pang of grief struck through him when he thought of her. "I don't know how I'm getting along," he said, shrugging. "It kind of helps, to have the twins, you know. They're a part of her. I don't know why I never realized that before." George smiled. "It'll get easier, Ethan, trust me. It's easier when you actually _deal_ with it when it happens instead of blaming innocents and running away," he added, knowing it would rile Ethan up, "but handle it the way you want. I'm not going to judge more than I already have." 

 "Thanks, George," muttered Ethan, but before he could think of a more powerful rebuttal, two sets of footsteps sounded down the stairs, and then Evie ran into the living room. She ran up and hugged Ethan. "You're home!" Jacob followed slowly behind, looking annoyed that their father was back, but before he could say anything, he noticed George. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing at the Assassin. "That's my friend, George," he said, looking down at the twins. "Hello," George said, and than he glanced at Ethan. "Have you told them yet?"

 He stared at George, wondering why he didn't ask _before_ the twins came downstairs as Jacob looked at Ethan confused. "Tell us what?" he asked, beginning to look excited. "Is it a secret? A _cool_ secret?" Ethan smiled at him. "Kind of," he said, before looking at a guilty George, muttering, "I guess we're doing it now." 

 "Whoops," George said, shrugging. "It was time, anyway."  _Is it?_ Ethan asked himself, patting the couch next to him. "Come sit, I've got a lot to tell you." Evie quickly sat next to him, while Jacob hesitated before sitting down next to his sister, away from Ethan. "Well," he began, trying to remember how his parents told him about his heritage. "In this world, there are two groups twisting history and future from behind the scenes. Those who fight for order through any means, and those who fight for freedom," he said, glancing at the twins. To his dismay, Jacob was beginning to look bored, but his eyes had lit up at the mention of freedom.  _That's good._

 "The people who fight order are called the Templar order, and those who fight for freedom are the Assassin Brotherhood. They have been at war for centuries, longer than you can even believe," he said, glancing at George. His friend looked lost in thought, like he was remembering when Ethan introduced him into the Brotherhood. He was much easier to teach about the Creed than it would be for two wild kids, that Ethan was sure.

 "Some people are brought into this Brotherhood, like George and your mother, but a lot are raised in it, like me." Ethan paused, watching the twins' reaction, before continuing, "and like you." Both twins appeared to be in awe, and Evie asked quietly, "We're Assassins?" Ethan smiled. "Yes, you are Assassins." He was the same way when he was taught. It made him proud, teaching them about their past, but it made him worried too, for introducing them to the Brotherhood's dangerous, secret lifestyle.  _What if I lose them, too?_

"But," he added as Jacob jumped off the couch, ready to run. "This is a secret. If I heard either of you say anything about our Brotherhood to _anyone_ other than George and I, you're going to be in more trouble than you ever believe. And not just with me." He knew Evie wouldn't have said anything. She probably knew there was a reason Ethan never told them until now. Jacob on the other hand... Well, Jacob would do anything to get ahead of his small group of 'friends'. He hoped Jacob heard the urgency in his voice. He _looked_ like he did, but he could never be sure with Jacob.

 "Everything I've been teaching you have been from and for this Brotherhood," Ethan said, standing up. "But get ready, because tomorrow, you're going to start learning how to fight." Jacob stared at Ethan, before whipping his head to look at Evie, looking excited. "We get to learn how to fight!" He ran off before Ethan could say anything else, and Evie quickly followed. He sighed, and turned to George, who had gotten up to stand beside him. 

 "I see what you mean about them being a combination of you two," George said, smiling. Ethan sighed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "I want to teach them to fight for freedom, not by just simply killing oppressors, but helping the people. To find their own path, not to just become instilled with our philosophies to become someone we want them to be. And, most importantly, not to let personal feelings get in the way of the mission." George started. "That's a new one of yours." His gaze grew darker as he asked, "is it because of Cecily?"

 "No!" Ethan snapped, a little too harsh. George seemed to take that as a yes. "They're  _human,_ Ethan. They're going to fall in love. They're going to grieve. That's what we  _do._ " He glared at his old mentor, pulling his hood up and walked towards the door. "I know I said I wouldn't judge you anymore for the way you grieve, but by God you're making it hard." He left, quickly, leaving a furious Ethan alone in his thoughts. 


	3. Chapter 3

  _"George!" he called to his friend as his friend was leaping out the carriage. "I came as fast as I could," George said, rushing over. "This weather is not the greatest for- you look panicked," he cut off, looking at his friend's stricken face. "I'm worried," Ethan said, looking back inside the house. "She'll be fine," George said, patting his friend on the back. "This happens all the time." Ethan looked back at him, worry etched deeper into his face. "I know, it's just, she's been so sick, and now... I just have a really bad feeling about this."_

* * *

 

“There are somethings I need to tell you before we start,” Ethan said, handing the twins wooden swords. They were in a small clearing just outside of Crawley, where they could train away from prying eyes. Well, Ethan hoped. There were far less Templars in Crawley compared to Croydon, where George suggested he trained them, but they still stopped by for Templar business, like hunting down Assassins. Young Assassins. Young Assassins that didn’t even know how to fight yet, or what exactly a Templar was.

 He shook his head to get rid of his paranoid thoughts just as Jacob raised the sword to hit either him or Evie with it. “Jacob! Lower the sword. You’ll be able to hit something in a moment.” Jacob turned to look at him, lowering the sword with a glower. “Thank you,” Ethan said with a sigh, lowering his wooden sword on the ground so he could lean on it. “This is not really related to training, but it’s something you must keep in mind if you want to call yourself one of us.

 "We, the Assassins, follow a Creed. It’s been around since the dawn of our Brotherhood, and it hasn’t changed in the slightest. One; stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent. Two; hide in plain sight. And three; never compromise the Brotherhood. Jacob!” he snapped when he noticed he wasn’t paying much attention. “You must pay attention to this, and learn it well. If you break the Creed, you will die. There is no wiggle room.” Well, that was a lie, but shock factor was necessary for them to listen.

 And listen they did, as both of their eyes widened, and Jacob dropped his sword. Guilt washed over Ethan. He meant to scare them, but it made him feel bad, seeing their reactions. He crouched down and put his hands on their shoulders, smiling. “Don’t worry. The Creed is easy to follow. No Assassin in recent memory has broken it. Besides, if either of you accidentally break it, you can bet I'll be there to help you." When the twins nodded, Ethan stood up straight and walked back. "Now, I'll show you how to swing a sword in the safest and easiest way possible."

* * *

 

 They returned home around noon, and Ethan was surprised to see George in the sitting room again. "George, what a pleasant surprise," he said sarcastically, and George just crossed his arms. "We have business."

 "Oh," was all Ethan could think to say. He turned to the twins. "Go play outside. The adults need to talk." Evie nodded and went outside quietly, while Jacob just kicked the leg of the couch, muttering, "Why do  _we_ have to go outside?" Ethan smiled apologetically. "You can practice the moves I taught you," he suggested, and Jacob's face lit up. "I could!" He ran outside after Evie, calling her name excitedly. 

 Ethan let out a small laugh, and looked up at George, smiling. "Aren't they just the cutest?" George just raised one eyebrow. "Oh, right. Business. Come to my study." George followed him down the hall, smiling faintly. "I honestly must say, I'm quite surprised by the way you've warmed up to them. Never thought it would happen." Ethan rolled his eyes. "Must you _always_ say that whenever I show affection for them? They _are_ my kids, after all." George just shook his head. "I just can't keep forgetting the way you looked at them, that's all."

 Ethan sat down at his desk with a huff. "You can't seem to ever let  _that_ go either." He gestured at a chair across from him, and George sat down. "Well, what are we dealing with this time?"

 "Some Templars are hanging around the rail yard in Croydon. Word is they're expecting a shipment from London, coming in sometime tonight," George said, tossing a piece of paper on the desk. "I snatched that from one of the guards." Ethan grabbed it and scanned it over. "Huh. No mention of what the shipment is." He looked back up at George. "How long will this take?" George shrugged. "Anywhere from fifteen minutes to two hours. You know Templars, Ethan."

 "Dammit," he hissed. He didn't want to spend too long away from the twins, especially at night. But, duty called. He stood up. "I'll go get ready, and call for the twins. You can wait outside. I'll only be a moment." George nodded. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you'll come back." Ethan sighed, opening the door. "That's not what I'm worried about it."

* * *

"Evie! Jacob! Come inside, I've got to talk to you."

 Jacob came in first, eyes lit up. "I was so good! I almost did it as good as you! Ask Evie!" Evie came in close behind. "I was good too!" Ethan smiled at them, ruffling their hair. "I'm proud of you two." He lead them inside to the living room. "You're going to your grandmother's tonight." 

 "What? Why?" Evie asked, stopping in her tracks. Jacob nearly ran into her. "I've got business overnight in Croydon with George. Don't worry, I'll be back in time for training," he added, noticing Jacob's face. "Why do you have a job at night, anyway?" he muttered, kicking the couch again. "You'll find duty calls whenever it can, no matter the time of day," Ethan said, walking towards the door. "Go pack, I'll drop you off before heading to Croydon."

* * *

 "Thanks again," Ethan said, when he went to pick them up the next morning. Their grandmother just scoffed, a twinkle in her eye. "This is the second time, Frye. Don't make a habit of it." He laughed dryly. "You know as well as I my job kind of forces me to." She scoffed, opening her mouth to call for the twins before she heard them running over.

 She stepped out of the way to let them run by, and they charged at Ethan, hugging his legs. "You're back!" Evie said, and Ethan smiled at her. "Yes, I'm back." Jacob didn't say anything, he just let go of his leg and examined his robes. Ethan realized that Jacob hadn't been squeezing him that hard this time.  _He's starting to like me._ Jacob looked up at him when he noticed his father watching. He lifted up the tail of his coat and pointed at a new red stain. "Why is there blood on your coat?" 

 "Oh, uh..." Ethan stuttered. He couldn't exactly tell him where it came from, not with his grandmother watching. "I'll tell you at home." With that he started to walk off towards the carriage that was waiting. "Say bye!" The twins waved their goodbyes to their grandmother and climbed into the carriage with Ethan. 

 He enjoyed the ride home, with the twins asking question after question until they couldn't think of any, and then asking him to tell the story about what happened. Ethan happily answered what he could in the least gruesome way possible, and found himself enjoying the questions thoroughly. It was hard to believe that, only five and a half years ago, he hated his children for the death of Cecily. He tried to find that anger again, but he realized it was gone. And he was glad.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

_"No!"_

_Ethan tried to fight against his friend's powerful shove, but it was no use. George wasn't relenting, so Ethan gave up and let himself be shoved out of the room, seething with rage. George pushed him outside, and then stood in the door as Ethan stomped into the middle of the yard, before whipping back to look at his friend. "Let me back in there! Let me see my wife!" George shook his head. "You need air."_

_"No, I don't! I need to see Cecily!" he hissed, charging at George, hoping to catch him off guard to shove his way back into the house. But, George was ready for him, and he held out his arms to stop Ethan. "Ethan! There's nothing you can do! She's gone!" He said, holding Ethan's shoulders. Ethan shook George off and stepped away from his friend, staring at him. He looked to be holding back tears and his voice broke as he said, again, "There's nothing we can do."_

_A mixture of grief and rage overtook Ethan again, and he grabbed George's collar, hissing, "It's their fault, isn't it? She'd be alive if it weren't for them!" George looked at him in disgust. "Ethan, get a hold of yourself! It's not their fault! Newborns don't kill their mother. It was an accident." Ethan just shook him, ignoring his friend. "It's their fault! Let me in there!"_

_"Ethan!" George yelled, grabbing Ethan's wrists and pulling his hands away. "Listen to yourself." Ethan stared at his friend wildly, pulling his hands free. "Let me at least see my wife, George! Let me see Cecily!" George shook his head again. "No, not until you've calmed down and I know for sure you won't hurt your kids."_

_"Fuck you!" Ethan snarled, stomping to the farthest part of the yard away from George. He fell to his knees, punching the ground. "It's not fair," he hissed between his teeth. He sat in angry silence, the only sounds the songs of the birds and George trying not to cry._

_After a while, grief took over Ethan again, and he put his hands over his face, sobbing. "It's not fair, it's not fair."_

_"I know it's not," George said. He must have come over when he noticed Ethan had starting crying. "But we must move on." Ethan turned his head to look at his friend. "Can I see my wife?"  George nodded, tears coming to his eyes again._

_The two entered the house, the silence broken by the sounds of their footsteps and Ethan's sobbing. George led the way to the room, the door now closed, and knocked on it. Cecily's mother opened the door a crack. George nodded at Ethan. "He needs to see her."_ _She opened the door enough to let him in, and Ethan stepped inside._

_There was the sound of newborns crying. Ethan didn't turn his head to look at them. Even the sound of their crying filled him with rage, but he knew he couldn't yell at them. George wouldn't like it. Cecily was laying in on the bed, and, if he was foolish enough, he could just think that maybe, maybe she was asleep. "Cecily?" he asked, hopeful that George was lying to him and she was asleep. There was no answer, and Ethan could see that she wasn't breathing. He sat down, heavy, on the chair he'd been sitting in before things got worse. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, hoping that she would squeeze back, but, again, nothing. "Cecily," he said, shaking his head. "Don't leave me, Cecily. I need you. Your children need you." Still nothing. "Come on, Cecily."_

_He lowered his head, trying to fight back the tears. "Cecily," he whimpered, leaning forward and resting his head on her chest. "Oh, Cecily."_

* * *

 

"Good, just like that!" Ethan said, pride rushing through him, watching Evie taking a running leap over the gap towards him. He was teaching the twins how to run from roof to roof, and, more importantly, how to get up on the roof and stay on it. Like their grandmother had said all those years ago, they were expert climbers, and they were ready the moment he had stopped sword training early to practice. 

 It'd been almost four years since he starting to care for the children, and almost ten since they were born. Since he'd said goodbye to Cecily. Most of their birthdays, he'd try, and fail to stick around, but he always found himself drifting, and George would have to take care of the twins until he got fed up with Ethan and went to go fetch his drunken friend from a pub. Ethan was determined to stay with them all day this time. The tenth birthday was always an important birthday. Besides, he always felt bad running away from the twins, even for one night, to drink away his grief.

 "Now, your turn Jacob, then afterwards we'll head home by going along the roofs," he said, beckoning to his son. Jacob leaped it with no hesitation, nearly losing his balance when he landed. He recovered before Ethan could grab him, and just smiled at his father. "Easy." Ethan smiled back. "Yes, it is. And will get easier with time."

 He led the way home, slower than he was used to, but it was for the twins' sake. They were quite agile, Evie a bit more than Jacob, and kept a good pace. Ethan swelled with pride when he thought about how, soon, they'd be able to run these roofs with no problems. He leaped onto the roof of their house, and beckoned to the twins. "Come on, I have something to tell you about tomorrow." Jacob leaped over beside him. "Is it because it's our birthday? Because we know that." Ethan shook his head. "No, it's far more interesting than that."

 "What could me more interesting than that?" Evie asked, leaping next, nearly on, her brother. "Not much, I suppose," Ethan admitted, "but interesting no less." He climbed down the wall, and then stood, helping the twins. He almost didn't have to. They took to climbing walls almost as easily as Cecily did when he was teaching her.

 Jacob led the way inside the house, and ran into the living room as soon as he opened the door. Evie sprinted after her brother, and Ethan entered more slowly, smiling softly. "Oh, hey George!" Jacob said, his voice carrying easily through the halls. Confusion swept through Ethan, and he walked into the living room. Sure enough, there was George, sitting down on the couch with the twins beside him, asking him questions about his visit. "Hello George," Ethan said, walking over. "I thought you were coming by tomorrow." 

 "I can't visit twice in a row?" George asked, looking up at Ethan. There was a look in his friend's eyes he couldn't quite read. "What do you need?" Ethan asked, concerned. George glanced down at the twins beside him, and looked back up at Ethan. "I want you to come with me."

* * *

 George led him across the roofs of Crawley, making a fast pace. Rain had started, and the roof was getting slippery. That didn't worry Ethan as much as George's urgency. "Where are you bringing me that you couldn't tell the twins?" asked Ethan, annoyed to be dragged away from them before he could tell them what he wanted. George still didn't answer, he just fell back closer to Ethan to ask, "When are you starting them on steel?"

 "Tomorrow. I was going to tell them," he said, glancing at George, flicking water from his face, "but you dragged me away too soon." George shrugged. "This is important." He stopped suddenly on a roof near a grassy field dotted with headstones. Ethan nearly crashed into him, and nearly swore at him before realizing where they were going.

 "Have you visited her grave?" George asked, softly, looking back at Ethan with sadness in his eyes. "The twins took me," Ethan said, staring out across the cemetery. "Once. They wanted me to tell them about her." George didn't move his gaze. "And have you?"

 "Of course," Ethan said, not the entire truth. There was a part that wanted to avoid telling them, to avoid reliving times he would never get back. But he knew he had to. Someday. 

 George nodded, leaping off the roof, making his way, swiftly, across the rain-soaked field. Ethan followed, wishing his friend would slow. Eventually, George came to a stop in front of a small headstone, simple in its design. Ethan came up beside him, quiet. They both stood that way, letting the rain soak through their robes. 

 It was a while before George glanced at Ethan. "She'd be proud of you, you know. For raising the twins without her. For how you've forgiven them." Ethan glanced at his friend, and the two locked eyes for a small moment. George seemed to be holding back tears, and Ethan just blinked his back before raising his head to look at the sky, letting the rain fall on his face. He let out a small, defeated, "I know."

 George wrapped an arm around Ethan's shoulders, patting him. Ethan just leaned against his friend, again missing the days it was just Cecily, George, and himself taking missions to fight the Templars. But now it was just him and George, alone, and he knew that nothing would be the same between them, not since that day he left to India. When Ethan gave into grief.

After a while, the two Assassins slowly, quietly, left the lonely cemetery.


	5. Chapter 5

 Ten years. Ten years on the dot.

 It surprised him, in a way. Ten years had passed, but it still felt like he lost Cecily yesterday. Time flies when your life is thrown upside down, he supposed. And when you were raising kids. It was hard to believe that they were already ten. They grew fast.

 He was sitting on the roof with them, telling stories while waiting for George to show up. They had gone training earlier, and they didn't much seem to mind the change to steel weapons. They both looked scared that they would cut him badly, so it took some coaxing for them to swing their hardest again. It worried Ethan, their hesitation. He was worried they'd turn out like Jayadeep, with an aversion to violence. Which, wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it was just that London needed fighters, and he believed the twins would be it.   

 He was telling them a story about when he was in India training Jayadeep when the sound of feet landing behind them cut him off. The twins got up and turned around, while Ethan just leaned his head backwards to look. "You're a Master Assassin," George said, amused, "yet you don't turn around, ready for a fight when someone comes behind you." Ethan just shrugged. "I knew you would come that way, George." George just laughed. "Keep telling yourself that Ethan." He looked down at the twins, crouching down to their level. "Happy birthday you two," he said, patting their heads. "You know, I never asked who was older out of the two of you." 

 "It doesn't matter-" Jacob began, before Evie cut in, "Me!" George smiled at her. "Are you? How much?" Evie pointed at her chest. "Four minutes." George laughed, looking over at Ethan.  Ethan lay down, smiling. "She never lets him forget."

 "Hey Father," Jacob asked, looking over at Ethan, seemingly desperate to change the subject. "How did you meet George? You said he wasn't born in the Brotherhood." Evie turned to look over at Ethan, too. "Yeah, how did you meet?" Ethan looked up at George. "When was that, eleven years? Twelve?" George paused to think, and then said, "Fourteen, actually. Two years after you got back from India." He got up and sat next to Ethan, Jacob sitting next to him while Evie went on the other side Ethan. He sat up, and glanced at his friend. "I don't remember all the details, but if I remember, it started with a robbery, did it not?"

* * *

 

  _Ethan ran across the roofs, following the Templars he'd spotted wandering near the river. He had nothing better to do, but killing Templars always made him feel better, and the Council would agree with it. However, they seemed to be going nowhere, just walking aimlessly, heading towards the mill by the river. They also looked drunk._

This is a waste of time,  _he thought, stopping._ I could be home with Cecily right now, but here I am. Following drunks.  _He turned to leave, until he heard what sounded like whispering, and the sound of running. He looked over his shoulder, confused._ What could drunks be running from? Me?  _he thought, before noticing another figure on the riverbank. The man seemed to have noticed the thugs running at him, and he looked to be debating running or staying to fight. Either way, he was horribly out numbered, and, if he ran, they might catch him. Ethan hating seeing stuff like this. The people were already robbed everyday, they didn't need thugs to take whatever they had either._

 _He turned again, and ran over the roofs silently, towards the thugs. He was proud of his silence, and how the thief he leaped down on didn't know what was happening until his blade was in his throat. He pulled it out, the blade and blood glinting in the moonlight, as another one ran at him. "Easy," he said, sweeping the Templar's leg out from underneath him, stabbing him after he hit the ground._ Three more,  _he thought,_ two attacking the man and one idiot thinking he can take me on alone.

_He pulled his revolver, getting a bullet into the chest of one of the Templars attacking the man before the one attacking him could get close. When he did, Ethan slammed the butt into his head, and then promptly put a bullet through his skull when he hit the ground. He slid the revolver back into his robes, and walked over to the last Templar standing. He seemed to be panicking, holding a knife at the man. "Come on, don't be like that," Ethan said, wrapping his arms around his throat, then, he swiftly drew his blades across his throat. The Templar dropped, and Ethan was left staring at the man he'd saved._

_He looked older than Ethan, but not by much. He was strong, but he had a deep, exhausted look in his eyes, like life itself was tearing him down. He looked at Ethan's bloodied blades, curious. "Who are you?" Ethan disengaged his blades, smiling. "I suppose I should tell you. I'm Ethan Frye," he said, holding out his hand. "No," the man said, looking at his arm. "I didn't ask for your name, I asked who you were." Ethan stared at him. He wasn't sure if he should tell him about the Brotherhood. Last outsider he told was Cecily, and he got a talking from his parents- and the Council- about how dangerous it was to tell random people, even if you trusted them, about the Assassins. But, this man needed help, Ethan could see that. The Assassins could give it._

_Still, he felt anxious as he leaned close to him. "I shouldn't really tell you, but hell, why not. I think you're trustworthy." He wrapped an arm around the man's shoulder and pulled him close as he engaged his hidden blade on his free hand. "I'm a member of a secret Brotherhood. We're called the Assassin Order. We fight to help the oppressed, and," he added, gesturing at the dead bodies that surrounded them, "to fight against the Templar Order." He stepped away from the man, smiling. "You can join us. Outsiders have joined before. You're strong, we could use you." The man just stared at him, suspicious. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" Ethan just leaned close again. "I told you my name."_

_Ethan could tell the man was somewhat fed up with Ethan's vague answers, but he didn't say anything. Ethan gestured at himself. "If you want to talk to me again, you'll probably find me at the school. I work there in the day." He turned to walk off, but the man called out to him. "I never told you my name." Ethan whirled around, to look at the man. There was a different look in his eyes. "I'm George Westhouse."_

_"Well, hopefully, I'll see you again, George. Remember what I told you." With that he vanished into the night, with George staring after where he'd been._

* * *

"I think you _embellished_ the truth in your telling," George said, looking at Ethan. "If I remember correctly, I wasn't  _that_ defenseless." Ethan pat his friend on the shoulder. "Sure, George."

 "What happened next?" Evie asked. "Did he come to the school?" Ethan smiled at George. "He actually came the next day. I thought he'd think it over first." George smiled back at him. "You gave me escape from that boring life of mine, Ethan. And, of course, I was quite young and reckless.

"Anyway, I feel that's enough of stories. Can I watch you train?" he asked the twins. The twins jumped up, eager to show off their moves. "Of course!" Jacob said, then he turned to Evie. "Race you down!" Evie smirked at him. "You're on."

 Both of the twins ran off, laughing, while George and Ethan watched them leave. "They're a handful sometimes," Ethan said, shaking his head. "Couldn't have been worse than training me," George responded. "Oh no, you were easy," Ethan said, pushing his friend. "Your only problem was that it took _forever_ to teach you how to fight." George pushed him back. "Couldn't have been _too_ long."

 "Look who's embellishing the truth now?" Ethan said with a laugh, as he heard a carriage go by below. He glanced at George as a messenger he recognized being from the Indian Assassins walked out. He leaped off the roof, startling the messenger. "What's this?" he asked, as the messenger held out a letter. He stared at it as he read it, despair growing in him. "I've got to go to India." He told George. "Why?" he asked, worried. 

Ethan glanced back the letter. "Jayadeep's going to be killed."

 


	6. Chapter 6

He got the twins up early, so he could still have a full morning of training before he left for India. They seemed annoyed to have been woken up earlier than normal, and were sluggish at the beginning, which caused Ethan's focus to drift.  _Arbaaz should've listened to me,_  he thought, parrying one of Jacob's blows with a flick of his wrist.  _Now his son is imprisoned for treason, awaiting death._ He hoped Arbaaz would listen to him this time, to exile Jayadeep instead of killing him.

 "You're distracted!" Jacob said, swinging his sword into this stomach. Ethan stumbled backwards, trying to regain his balance as Jacob slammed into him. Both fell, Jacob and Evie laughing. Ethan lifted his head to look at them, and started laughing along with them. "I guess that goes to show you what happens if you let your mind wonder during a fight." Jacob looked up at Ethan, titling his head to the side. "Are you thinking about your trip?" Ethan lay his head back down, sighing. "Yes, I am." 

 "How long will you be gone?" Evie asked, lowering her sword. "I don't know. Hopefully only a few months," Ethan answered, watching a bird circle in the sky above. "Don't worry, George will be here." 

"But George isn't as fun as you!" Jacob said, hitting the ground. "Why can't he go to instead?" Ethan shrugged, despite knowing the answer. "I've been meaning to ask you something," he said, changing the subject. Jacob didn't seemed pleased at the vague answer, but he went along with it. "What?"

 "I've got a gift, I suppose you could call it," Ethan said, sitting up. Jacob and Evie sat next to him. "What kind of gift?" Evie asked, in an uneasy way that made him think she knew. "It's strange. Everyone has it, but it doesn't come easily to some, like me. But for some, it comes as easy as breathing.

 "There are Assassin records about it; some called it the Sense, but most records call it Eagle Vision," Ethan said, taking a breath and activating it. In a way, he hated it, the way the world was reduced to muted colours. But it was also somewhat peaceful. Either way, it was useful for identifying and taking out targets. He glanced at the twins. "You can probably see a difference, even if it's small. The look in my eyes has changed." He deactivating it, smiling. "It's a unique ability. I believe you two have it." The twins glanced at each other, before Jacob asked, "How do you know we do?" Ethan shrugged. "Two things. Both your mother and I have it, and your ability to sneak is incredibly good. It's almost  _too_ good for two kids your age and in your stage of training." He knew Cecily had a better grasp on her Eagle Vision than he had. He never had to train her how to use it, like George. Hers allowed her to mark targets, and, maybe, it allowed her to see targets through walls. He thought that maybe the twins would have a watered down version of Cecily's, due to his being weaker, but they must have inherited hers fully.

 "Like this?" Evie asked, her eyes taking the focus that he had seen in Cecily's eyes so much. It surprised him, how quickly she was able to activate it. "Yes, exactly like that," he said, glancing over at Jacob. "Can you do it too?" Jacob scoffed, "Of course." He got the same otherworldly focus, and Ethan glanced between them. It had taken him so long to coax his out, and here were his children, activating it as easily as breathing. Part of him was jealous. Part of him was proud.

 "You know what, I have an idea," he said, standing up. "I'll go hide, and you two use your Eagle Vision to try to find me." Both of the twins jumped up, before Evie asked, confused, "Aren't you leaving soon?" Ethan turned around, pulling out his watch. Eleven thirty. He was supposed to leave at twelve. He put the watch back into his pocket. "There's still time. At least a couple rounds, then we'll head home." Anxiety flashed through him again as he remembered that he had to leave them. He may have left them once, but now that he had connected with them he'd rather do anything else than be away from his kids for two long. "Count to ten, than come find me!" he called back at them, running into the trees. 

* * *

 They walked into their house later, laughing. "You look like you've had fun," George said, walking over from Ethan's study. "I thought you were training." Ethan shoved his friend. "What, training can't be fun? Wasn't training with me fun?" George shoved him back. "It was more dangerous than fun, Ethan." Ethan smiled at him. "Isn't danger fun?" he asked, then he glanced at the twins. "Go train in the backyard. I'll be over to say goodbye in a bit." The two nodded and ran off, and Ethan looked back at George. "You look like you want to talk to me." George nodded, growing somber. "I do."

 "Is it about Jayadeep?" he asked, walking upstairs and into his room. "Actually, yes," George answered, following him in. He paused, briefly, and Ethan realized that the last time George had been in there had been during the twin's birth. He stared at the ground as George continued, "he's in The Darkness."

 "Shit," Ethan breathed, lifting his head and walking over to the bags on his bed. "He's just a  _boy,_ George." 

 "A boy who broke the Creed."

 "A boy nonetheless. I never agreed to that mission. Arbaaz was too proud of his son's skills to admit that he had a weakness for killing," Ethan said, glancing out the window. He should just see the twins out in the yard, swinging their swords at each other. He felt the old worry flash through him again. Was it really right, to train them so deeply in the Assassin philosophy, to take away their right to choose their path? He was trying to show the twins that there was a choice, but he felt like he was failing. Besides, what if one of them showed the same weakness during their blooding? It hurt to face the idea of Jayadeep's death, but his own child's? Was Arbaaz was torn as he would feel?

 "You're worried about them," George said, nodding out the window. Ethan glanced at George, before watching the twins again. Evie had overpowered her brother, again. "Of course I am, George. They show promise, but faced with actually killing someone? Your first kill takes it's toll. But let's face it," he said, closing his suitcase with a smile at George, "no kill is easy. No wonder Jayadeep hesitated."

 He lead the way back out, not waiting for George's response. He walked downstairs, and over to the back door. He stood, watching the twins, until the realized he was standing there. They turned to look at him, and Ethan just held up his hands. "Don't let me stop you." The two glanced at each other, before dropping their swords and running over to hug him. It took him by surprise, as most hugs did, and the stood still for a brief moment. Every time they hugged him, he was always struck by how much he loved them, and confused as to how he could've hated them so. He smiled, patting the twins as they stepped back. "Be good for George, alright? And keep on top of your studies and training. I don't want to hear you've been falling behind when I get back, you hear?" Jacob scoffed, but Evie answered, "We will."

 He glanced towards the front as a carriage pulled up. "Well, there's my ride." He grabbed his bag and turned to George. "I trust you'll know what to do?" George nodded. "Of course. Everything will be fine," he added, noticing the tears in his friend's eyes. Ethan just shrugged. "I know that. It's just..." he dropped off, and George just smiled sympathetically. "You don't want to leave them. A normal reaction." He shook his head. "Never thought I'd see the day," he said quietly, earning a smack from Ethan. "You said you'd stop saying that." George just snickered. "I never said that. I just said I'd stop judging you. Big difference."

 Ethan just rolled his eyes, turning to wave at the twins. "I'll see you when I get back." He opened the door, turning back again to say, "Remember what I told you!" George just shook his head again. "We get it, Ethan." Ethan sighed, and waved at them, before he closed the door. He stood, staring at the carriage, before shaking away the cobwebs. He trusted George; they'd be in good hands.


	7. Chapter 7

If the trip to India felt like it took weeks, the trip back felt like years. With every passing second he was getting closer to his kids, and he was filled with the same anxiety he had felt four years before. Stop it, he said, shaking his head. They’ve met you, and they can’t wait for you to come back. It wouldn’t be like they were meeting him for the first time. It was only the first time in around four months. Not bad. However, no matter how much he tried to convince himself, his anxiety wouldn’t back down. _You’re a Master Assassin. You’ve faced countless foes that want you dead. You’ve killed men without so much of a thought. But the idea of seeing your kids again sends your heart racing. Stupid_ , he chastised himself. _The great Ethan Frye, and his only weakness is his family._

The carriage lurched to a halt, jolting Ethan out of his thoughts, and the driver opened the door. Ethan climbed out, thanking him, and then turned to his house. It was still standing, and he laughed at the thought. Did he really have so little faith in George that he was worried that, at the very least, he’d come home to nothing? “This must be what my parents felt like every time they came back from missions,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “At least I was an only child.” He picked up his bag and walked towards the door, reaching for the knob as the door opened. George smiled at him. “I was wondering how long you’d stand out there.”

“It wasn’t as long as last time I came back,” Ethan said, walking past him. “Where are the twins?”

“Out back,” George said, pointing towards the back door. "We’ve got something interesting to show you.“ Ethan’s curiosity piqued. "Oh? What is it?” George only smiled. “Something I think you’d enjoy.” He led the way to the backyard, pulling up his hood as he went. Ethan placed his bag down by the front door and followed.

The twins were sword training, and Ethan was proud to see that they had improved since the last time he’d trained them. They were too focused on their mock fight to notice George and Ethan walk up. Evie swept out her brother’s legs from underneath him, swinging her sword to point it at his neck as he hit the ground. “You win, again,” Jacob mumbled, face pressed against the ground. Evie pulled her sword back, smiling. “You _always_ fall for that, Jacob.” She held out her hand, asking, “Do you want help up?”

“I got it,” he mumbled again, quickly pushing himself onto his knees. “Let’s go again!” he said, grabbing his sword and jumping to his feet. “I’ll get you this time!” Evie just sighed. “I’ve beat you four times already,” she said, rolling her eyes, “what makes you think you’ll win the fifth time?” Jacob shrugged. “My gut.” Evie giggled. “Well, clearly, your gut’s been wrong every other time.” Jacob swung his sword, once. “But now I’ve got your strategy down! My instincts won’t fail me this time!”

“You say ‘this time’ _every time_.”

“Do not!”

“Evie, Jacob, cut it out,” George called out to them when Evie opened her mouth. They looked over at him as George pointed at Ethan. “Your father’s back.” The two dropped their swords, eyes sliding over to look at Ethan before looking at each other in excitment. “Dad!” Evie said, running over, while Jacob walked over slower. “You’re back!” he said, wiping dirt and grass of his face. "Yes, I am. I see you've been training well," he said, patting Evie. "Did you see what I did to Jacob?" Evie asked, pointing at George. "He taught me that!" 

 "You preformed that pretty well," Ethan said. "It took _weeks_ for George to get it down." Ethan glanced up at George with a smirk. "Didn't it, George?"

George scowled at him, not answering. Ethan laughed, asking, "Well, what do you have to show me?" 

 "Oh, yes, that," George muttered. "Come on you two," he said to the twins, turning and climbing up to the roof. They eagerly climbed up after him. Ethan stood on the ground, confused as to why they had to climb as Evie looked over the edge of the roof. "Are you coming?" 

 "Yes, I am. I'm just wondering why we have to climb," he said, before leaping up and making it up the wall easily. Evie smiled at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You'll see. It's really cool." Jacob and George were already a few roofs ahead, and Evie tore off after her brother, easily leaping the gaps. He stood, again, watching his children with a glow of pride. They would be fine Assassins, and again he felt the accompanying guilt.  _Is this really the right thing? Do they know they have a choice?_

 "Come  _on,_ slowpoke!" Evie shouted at him, a couple roofs down. "Yeah, yeah," Ethan said with a smile. "Why do you want me to come so badly?" 

 "I told you before. It's for something cool!" she said, turning around and heading off after her brother again, leaving Ethan behind. He started to run after them, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Was I that eager?"  

* * *

 They stood on a roof overlooking the town centre. "You're here, good," George said, glancing at him. "I was beginning to think you fell off somewhere." Ethan scoffed. "I never fall."

 "Keep telling yourself that," George muttered, turning to the twins. "Now, who wants to go first?" Both twins raised their hands at the same time, and George just sighed. "How about we go by age? Evie, you first." Evie smirked at her brother, before standing on the edge of the roof beside George. Her balance was impeccable, but Ethan's breath still caught in his throat as she leaned over the edge. "Now," George was saying, pointing at a shopkeeper setting up below. "What does he sell?" 

 "Vegetables, ones that he grows himself," Evie said, and Ethan titled his head. George glanced at him, before turning back to Evie. "Good, that's the easy one. Now," he said, pointing over to a small group of officers, standing around a carriage parked to the side. "What was that man taken in for?" 

 "He's charged with a robbery that happened a few nights ago, down by the mill, but he's innocent," Evie said with the same confidence. Ethan felt a flash of irony before confusion took over again. "How do you know that? And how did you find out about it?" he asked George, who smiled at him. "While training. I was teaching them how to use their Eagle Vision when there was a commotion in the square. A mugging. Jacob was able to pinpoint exactly what was going on and who started it. It surprised me as much as you," he said. "It must be something to do with their Eagle Vision. They can spot people through walls, identify allies and law enforcement, 'tag people', you name it. It's just like Cecily's. Except with the added ability to distinguish people and their importance to the things around them."

 Ethan looked at his children. "Really?" he asked. His Eagle Vision had been simple compared to Cecily's; he could just identify people, not tag them. Compared to their children's and Cecily's even began to seem basic. "That's amazing."

 "My turn!" Jacob said, standing up beside George. George started putting Jacob through the same exercises, and Ethan walked over to Evie. "So, you can really tell what somebody's doing by just looking at them?" 

 "In a way," she responded. "It's like George said. We can tell what someone's importance is to the things around them. Sometimes just their location." She pointed over at one of the officers. "Like him. He's corrupt. He wanted to imprison the man as he knows somethings he shouldn't." Ethan looked at the officer. "Oh," he said quietly, formulating a plan. He'd need to remember that officer's face, so he could have a nice _chat_ with him later. 

"Good job, Jacob," George said, loud enough to get Ethan's attention. "It's getting late, we should get home. I'd like to be back in Croydon before dark." Jacob sighed. "Aw man, I was just getting into the rhythm," he said. Ethan smiled at him. "We'll come out for a couple hours tomorrow. I really want to see more of this ability of yours."

 He got up, letting the twins lead the way home. George kept stride with him, glancing at his friend several times before asking, "So, what happened?" Ethan sighed. "I don't really feel like talking about it." He didn't really want to tell him that he'd sent a young boy into London, alone, to spy. He'd tell him about the spy later, when this entire fiasco was forgotten.

 George glanced at the sky. "Unfortunate," he said, before changing the subject. "What are you going to start teaching them now?" Ethan shrugged. "Theory. Haven't done enough of that," he said. "I don't know how Jacob would like it." George landed, hard, on Ethan's roof, nearly losing his balance. "Who knows. He is a great athlete like you. Maybe he also got a bit of Cecily's love for theory." Ethan shook his head. "No, his mind starts to wonder when I start talking about stuff like that. He listens, he just doesn't enjoy it."

 Ethan slid down the drainpipe, landing softly on the ground. "Well, it's something he's got to learn if he wants to become an Assassin." George nodded, following Ethan to the ground, nearly losing his balance again. "Are you okay?" Ethan asked, walking inside, noticing how drawn his friend's face was. "You usually never stumble like that." 

 "Just tired," George said with a shrug. "Your couch is not the comfiest." Ethan stopped. "You slept on my couch? I've been gone for months, George. You could've slept on my bed." George just shrugged. "It's fine. Really." Ethan stared at him for a bit, before sighing. "It's fine. The first nights sleeping in there after Cecily's death was hard for me, but it got better. It does," he said as George shrugged again. "You slept on my couch in the days after Cecily's death," George said quickly. "I thought I might as well sleep on your couch. Besides, if the twins were awake I was more likely to hear them walking around when I was a floor below." 

 "I suppose you would," Ethan said, patting George on the back. "Go home, get some rest." 

 "Yes,  _mentor_ ," he said mockingly. "I might stop by tomorrow. Maybe help with the theory." Ethan shoved his friend. "No. Go sleep. You deserve it. If I see you at my house tomorrow I'll drive you back to Croydon myself." George shoved Ethan back. "Fine, fine." 

 "Good," Ethan said, satisfied. He walked over to the front door, grabbing his bags. "I'll see you hopefully _not_ tomorrow." George just rolled his eyes. Ethan smiled and walked over to the stairs, calling to the twins. "Hey, once I get my stuff straightened out, we'll do some sword training!" 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 Ethan was glad he had decided to take up schoolmaster as a second job, otherwise he didn’t know how he would deal with teaching the twins the history of the Assassins when one cared a little too much and one didn’t care enough.

 They were fifteen now- Ethan was thirty-seven and still found it hard to believe- and loved to test his limits. All teenagers must of been like that, he supposed. At least he was. His parents never let him forget that fact. The twins tended to get into trouble around the town, and Ethan would usually have to come smooth things over. He was worried that, at some point, he’d have to convince the police to drop charges, or, at worse, break them out of a cage. Jacob was mostly the source of his worry, but Evie still joined him on occasion.

 He’d been trying to teach them history for a while, between his time at the school, training them in fighting, and missions with George. Jacob’s mind would always wander, while Evie payed rapt attention, especially when he began to talk about the artifacts. He would say very little about their power, but even so, the fascination in her eyes scared him. They could easily deal serious damage to one’s mental state, even when using it for a short time. Unless you were like Altair of course.

 He was talking about some of the changes Altair made to the Brotherhood when Jacob’s chin slid off his hand and his head slammed to the table, asleep. Both Ethan and Evie stared at him, more confused than surprised, although the feeling was there. Sure, he’d had students fall asleep before, but he never thought Jacob would actually let himself get bored to sleep. Usually he’d make a loud comment about how boring it was and, if it progressed, leap out the window. But, he’d been getting more and more tired, and was almost dead on his feet at the end of the day. Ethan had been expecting him to drop at anytime for a while now, and he suspected it would be during Jacob’s least favourite time of the day.

 He glanced at Evie, and she met his eyes. Ethan beckoned her out of the room, closing the door and walking a bit into the hallway. “Do you know why your brother’s been so tired lately?” he asked, gesturing at the door. They still shared a room (he’d tried to separate them once, when they were around thirteen. It didn’t work out as well as he’d hoped) so she’d know if he was up to something. “He’s been leaving at night when he thinks I’m asleep,” Evie answered. Ethan stared, wondering why he couldn’t guess. Jacob always wanted to get out and do something. If he didn’t have something to do, he would go make something for him to do. Of course he was going out at night. “Next time, follow him,” Ethan said, a spur of the moment decision. Evie stared at her father, incredulous. “He deserves his privacy! If he found out you sent me out to follow him it would break his trust in you.”

 “Still, if he gets hurt or worse, I want to know,” Ethan said. “I don’t want something bad to happen to him and he’s left stranded until we find him missing in the morning. What if Templars get their hands on him?” Evie shook her head once, before nodding. “Fine, but I don’t like it.”

 “You don’t have to,” Ethan said, opening the door to the room. “Just think of it as training.” She didn’t respond, and there was a look in her eyes he couldn’t read. _She’ll get over it,_ he thought. He turned to Jacob and yelled, “Jacob! Wake up! We’re done for today.” His son woke with a start, mumbling sarcastically, “Really? We were _just_ getting to the good part.” Ethan sighed, gesturing out the window. “Go train. It’ll wake you up.” Jacob nodded, getting out of his chair and walking up to the window. He opened it, waved at Evie, before climbing out. “I didn’t mean ‘climb out the window’ but whatever,” Ethan muttered, walking away. He turned to Evie. "Go join him. I'll be out in a moment to watch, I've got some business to take care of." She nodded, following her brother out the window. Ethan sighed, shaking his head.  _Always got to be showy._

 He walked downstairs and into his study, closing the door behind him. He had a few letters from the Council, mostly condemning his actions with The Ghost. Of course they were. London scared them, and had been scaring them for the past hundred years. It was the entire reason the Templars still held such a tight grip on London. It was getting ridiculous at this point. He grabbed a couple of the letters, shoving them into the fireplace. The others he shoved into a desk drawer, for the twins to discover when they thought he wasn't looking. He heard them now, the sounds of their swords hitting, and the occasional shout from one of them.

 He walked over towards the window and watched them for a while, thinking. It was nearly time for their blooding, according to the Council. He, however, didn't agree. He didn't want them to hesitate like The Ghost, and he to be forced with the decision to kill them or send them to London or another Templar held city. He  _might_ take them out on missions, to at least get them used to death and  _maybe_ to teach them how to kill a man. There was a part of them that hoped that they'd never have to experience the feeling of their first kill, but the Templars wouldn't stop themselves. They needed new Assassins. 

 Ethan glanced around his study, before opening the window and climbing out. He closed it behind him silently, glancing at the twins to see if they noticed. They were too enthralled in their fight to notice. Evie tried to sweep Jacob's legs out from under him, but he managed to avoid it and hit her on the shoulder, unbalancing her. "Ha!" he yelled triumphantly, pumping a fist in the air as Evie stumbled. "I expected that!" 

 "You didn't expect this," Evie retorted, dropping her sword and tackling her brother in the stomach. His eyes widened in surprised as he dropped his sword and fell. He landed with a huff, and Evie lifted her head to smile down at him. "I win."

 "That's not fair!" Jacob sputtered, trying to push her off him. "Oh, says you," Evie scoffed, sitting up on his stomach. "What's that supposed to mean?" Jacob asked, titling his head to the side. She smirked down at him. "You know."

 "No, I don't. Why don't you do my a favour and tell me, sister dear?"

 "I think you'd do well figuring it out yourself, darling brother."

 "Hey, you two," Ethan said, smiling at their teasing. They turned to look at him, and Ethan unstrapped his Hidden Blades. Jacob surged up, pushing Evie off him, and quickly got to his feet. Evie followed up afterwards, muttering, " _That_ is what I meant, Jacob." He turned, his mouth open to rebuke but Ethan shushed him. He tossed one blade to Evie, and then one to Jacob. "Remember what I taught you. Use your left arm," Ethan said, patting his left arm. "You'll be getting your own soon, I wager. Better learn to fight with them." He turned to walk closer to the house, calling over his shoulder, "Remember, don't parry with them. I don't want them to break."

 The twins nodded, and Ethan stood to watch. Their steps with the sword were sure, but with the Hidden Blade they were more cautious. He should've- _would've_ started them on it sooner, but fear of them growing up had been holding him back. It was now or never, according to the Council.  _Goddamn Council._

 A heavy shadow dropped down, pressing the flat of a blade to the back of his neck. He noticed the black flash of a tail from a coat, and he smirked a little as he swung and drove his elbow hard into the man's side. As he stumbled back, Ethan spun around, sticking out his leg to trip his attacker up. He fell, and Ethan grabbed his throat, falling with him. He landed with a heavy thud, and Ethan fell on top of him, quickly pinning him with his knees. He glanced up at the twins, who had stopped their training to watch. He smiled. "That's one way to deal with an attacker from behind," he said, not even out of breath. He looked back down. "Isn't that right, George?"

 His friend smiled up at him, wincing. "I still got the drop on you." He lifted his hand and waved it at Ethan's face, blade engaged. "Besides, you left my arms free. I could've easily stabbed you by now." Ethan shrugged. "If I had my blades one would be in your throat if you even tried to stab me."

 "But you don't," George said, trying to push Ethan off him. "Please get off me. You're crushing my ribs and your grip on my throat is making it hard to breathe." Ethan shrugged. "Maybe," he said smoothly, before looking back up at the twins. "You two should try something like this. At least practice dropping onto the other and fending off a surprise attacker." The two nodded, turning their heads to talk to each other. He glanced back at George. "Now, what were we talking about?"

 "Getting off me."

 "But this is always so fun."

 "For _you_ , maybe," George retorted, trying to push him up. When they were young George could've easily been able to push Ethan off him, even before becoming an Assassin. But Ethan wasn't a seventeen year old hothead and George wasn't a twenty-two year old overworked mill worker. No, those days were far past them now. Ethan missed them dearly. "Ethan!" George snapped at him. " _Please_ get off me." 

 Ethan smiled, climbing off him. "That's the word I was waiting for." He held out his hand and helped George up, patting off his robes as he did so. "Thank you," George said, stretching. "That hurt more than it should have." 

 "It didn't ruin your good mood though." Ethan said, opening the back door. "Tell me, what are you doing here so early? And why  _are_ you so chipper?" 

 "It's my birthday," George said, and Ethan's smile dropped. "Oh,  _shit_. I'm sorry, I completely forgot." George shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I knew you would forget about it." Ethan stared at him. "How?"

 "You forgot your  _own_ birthday. The twins had to remind you."

 "Oh, yeah, I did, didn't I? I keep losing track of the dates," Ethan said, running a hand down his face. "The only one I can seem to remember is November ninth." 

 "No surprise there," George said quietly. "Well," Ethan said, shaking his head. "We should go out tonight. Have some drinks like old times." George nodded. "That would be nice. But what about the twins?" he asked, turning to look outside. "They're fifteen. They'll be fine," Ethan said, shrugging.

 "Still. I know you hate leaving them alone."

 "You got me there," Ethan sighed. "But I've got to get used to leaving them alone. They've said it themselves; I'm too overprotective." George pat him on the back. "Well, that's to be expected from someone who's been through what you've been through. However, it would be nice to see you get less protective. Sometimes you're even protective of me," he added as Ethan opened his mouth to argue. "So don't go saying it's because they're your kids."

 "Touché," Ethan mumbled, grabbing his robes. "They'll be out tonight, anyway. Evie's following Jacob. I fear he's going out and getting into trouble." George rolled his eyes. "It's not like he gets into enough trouble during the day."

 "I suppose. I'm _really_ not in the mood to bail my son out of jail. Or break him out," Ethan replied.

 "And you think Evie will tell him off?"

 "No. I just want her to tell me what he's doing."

 "So you think she'll snitch on her brother instead?"

 "Dammit George," Ethan said with a chuckle. "Why must you make me doubt myself?" George smiled, a twinkle in his eyes. "Because I'm your friend. And your elder."

 "How old are you anyway?" Ethan asked, opening the door. "Forty-two," George muttered after a pause. "I know you, but please don't go around calling me old. Or gramps." Ethan smirked, and George sighed. "Ethan, please-"

 "Can't help it," Ethan said, cutting him off.  "I'm thirty-seven. Compared to you, I'm a spring chicken. You've probably got, what, five more years until the Council suggests retirement?"

 "They've already been suggesting it," George mumbled, and Ethan beamed. "Maybe you should take them up on their offer. Leave all the hard work to the young 'uns like me."

 He turned, running up the side of his neighbour's wall as George growled, "You're not much younger than me!" Ethan whirled to face his friend. "Five years is more than you think, George!" George only groaned. "Why are going out so early?" he asked, desperate to change the subject. "I thought I might as well buy you a gift. Or, a birthday killing." George stared at him. "I don't need either!"

 "Birthday killing it is," Ethan said, staring out at the horizon before turning to his friend. "Oh, come on," he said, noticing George's sour expression. "You don't think that killing a Templar is a great birthday present? We've done it before, anyway." George shrugged. "I have the perfect target," Ethan insisted. "I've been watching him for about five years now. It's about time he's taken out." George stared at the ground silently before sighing. "Maybe I am getting old," he muttered, before looking back up at Ethan. "You've convinced me. Let's go kill a Templar, and then drinks are on you." Ethan pumped his fist into the air, turning on his heel towards the town centre. "I knew I'd get you. Come on, the day's still young." He led the way over the roofs, leaving the sounds of fighting and sibling teasing behind.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the previous chapter and this chapter were supposed to be one, but I realized it got quite too long so I split it.

 They sat above the square, watching, waiting for the officer to appear. "So," George asked, glancing at Ethan. "Why  _didn't_ you go after this guy five years ago?" Ethan shrugged. "I got busy with the twins and The Ghost, so I ended up putting him out of my mind. I still see him around town every so often. I think he has kids who attend my school." 

 "I keep forgetting you teach," George said. "I like it," Ethan replied. "I've found raising the twins made me appreciate it more. Maybe when I retire from missions I'll keep doing that for a couple years more." George smiled at him. "Good idea. I should've gotten a second job when I was younger." 

 "You just got out of that mill when you joined us. That's why I never pressured you to get another job. You were overworked and needed a break," Ethan said, glancing around the square, noticing a familiar looking uniform. "There's our man." He got up, watching his movements. "He's heading towards the rail yard," George said, standing up beside him. Ethan smiled at his friend. "Let's go intercept him, shall we?" George nodded, and they both took off across the roofs.

 They split up when they closed the distance on him, George going around to his left side, Ethan remaining on his right. George glanced at Ethan, and leaped off the roofs when Ethan gave a subtle nod. The officer jumped when he hit the ground, and George smiled at him. "Hello there. We need to have a chat." The officer muttered something Ethan couldn't hear, turned, and ran into the alley Ethan was perched above. "Perfect," Ethan breathed, leaping down in front of him. The officer jumped again, this time losing his balance and falling to the ground. "Goddammit," he hissed, scrambling away from Ethan. "Assassins tend to work in pairs when cornering a foe," Ethan said. "You should've done your homework before running." The officer glanced over his shoulder before looking back at Ethan. How many targets had Ethan seen like this? Terrified, but too prideful to admit defeat? He didn't know. He'd even been like that once, when he nearly fucked up a mission.

 "What are you doing?" the officer snarled. "I can have you arrested, you know." Ethan smirked, brandishing his knife, tilting it so it gleamed in the light. "Oh, I know." The officer opened his mouth to say something, but a blade poked out from his chest. He glanced down at it, before glancing back at George, who smiled at him. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" The officer tried to snap back, but George twisted his blade and the officer only let out a gurgling cough. He slumped, and George pulled his blade out, shaking blood from his hand.

 "Don't get the big Templars in Crawley like we used to," Ethan said, walking over to the body. He crouched down, closing his eyes and wiping some of the blood from his chest with a cloth. He held it up at George, so he could clean off his blade. "Unfortunate," he said, wiping off and disengaging his blade in one fluid motion. He gave Ethan back the cloth, who shoved it into his robes. "What should we do about him?" Ethan waved a hand at the body and said, "Leave it. They'll find it eventually." He pat George on the back, walking back over to the wall. "Come on, let's go get those drinks." George glanced back at the body, before turning to follow Ethan.

* * *

 Night had fallen, and Ethan realized how much he missed this, going out for drinks with George, not talking or worrying about work. It must have been years since the last time they did this. It had to have been at least before the twins were born. He smiled at his friend, who seemed to be lost in thought. "What are you thinking about?" Ethan asked, taking a swig. George shook his head before looking at Ethan. "The last time you were drunk around me." Ethan tilted his head, and George sighed. "You honestly don't remember?" Ethan closed his eyes, raking his brain. "Was it when I was staying at your place?" George nodded. "And... that's all I got," Ethan said with a shrug. "It was fifteen years ago, how do you expect me to remember what happened?"

 "I remember it quite well," George muttered, taking a sip from his mug. "Oh, you do?" Ethan said, leaning back. "Indulge me. I do _love_ hearing about stuff I've done while drunk." George sighed. "You burst into my room at quarter to one in the morning to tell me that you were going to India."

 "Now that you mention it, I do remember something like that," Ethan said. "You were so pissed off." 

 "Gee I wonder why," George muttered again, before saying, louder, "I was more pissed off when you insisted you sleep in my bed that night." Ethan spat out some of his drink. "What?" 

 "You heard me," George said, placing down his mug. "You said it was too lonely sleeping on my couch, and that you missed sleeping next to someone so much. No matter how many times I would tell you no you would keep insisting that you would climb into my bed. I told you I'd go sleep on the couch, but you got mad and said that you would go sleep on the couch if I went to sleep on the couch." Ethan took a long drink before saying, "I think I remember some of that now." He lowered his mug, smirking. "Wasn't I nice to sleep with?"

 "I wouldn't know," George muttered. It might've been the light, but Ethan could swear his friend was blushing. "As soon as I was sure that you were out I went and slept on my couch." Ethan leaned back. "Unfortunate. Cecily always said I was good in bed. I wanted to know if you thought the same." George ran a hand down his face. "She meant a completely  _different_ thing, Ethan." Ethan only smiled, and George let out a chuckle. "This is one thing I like about when you're drunk." 

 "What's that?" Ethan asked, finishing his drink. "You're more like your younger self," George said. "You've always been full of life, but when you were younger you were much more-"

 "Outgoing? Handsome? Valiant? " Ethan cut him off, leaning forward again. "I was going to say 'flirty'," George replied, "But I suppose those work too." Ethan laughed. "I'm not even that drunk, pal. I can get much more drunk if you're interested." George shook his head. "No no. I don't think I could handle that again." He glanced around, before standing up. "We should get to your place. We need to talk about your next mission in Croydon with The Ghost." Ethan sighed. "I suppose we do."

 The two left the pub, Ethan debating just getting a carriage instead of running along the roofs when George climbed up the wall of the pub. He turned to look down at Ethan. "Are you coming?" Ethan smirked at him before following him up. He was a little unsteady on his feet, and he relished the feeling. He loved any source of danger. Cecily always called him reckless because of it. He was too focused on staying balanced that when George shoved him behind a chimney he nearly fell over the other side off the roof. He recovered, hissing, "What the fuck George-" George shushed Ethan, pointing a couple roofs over.

 It took a moment for Ethan to realize, but two shadows ran across them, agile and silent. They seemed carefree. Ethan glanced at George, pointing over. "Are those my kids?" George nodded. "Yes, Ethan. They're your kids. What other kids in Crawley can run across roofs like that?" Ethan stared at them disappear down the side of a building. "You're right. I guess Evie's not so much following him as she is joining him," he added dryly. "I'll need to discuss this with them in the morning." He turned, leading the way across the roofs.

* * *

 

 The next morning, he awoke later then he should have and rushed to get ready to get to the school on time. The twins were already outside doing their rounds, while George was fast asleep on his couch. Not long after they got back, they only talked a little about his plans for The Ghost before Ethan pulled out his best whiskey. Otherwise he didn't really remember much. He grabbed his bag while trying to pull on his robes. "I'm going out!" he called out. He didn't know if the twins heard him, but George did. He woke up with a start, confused for a moment, before shaking his head. "What time is it, Ethan?"

 "Time for me to get out," he said, stepping out the door. "Stay here as long as you need. Eat my food. I'll be back later." He closed the door before George could say anything else, and he turned to yell, again, that he was going out before running off.

* * *

 By the time Ethan got back, George and the twins were nowhere to be found. He supposed George must've had some work for the Council, while the twins were probably messing around somewhere. Probably near the rail yard, if he had to guess. He grabbed the stack of unopened letters near the door, placing them into his study as he grabbed the newspaper. He sat down in the living room, waiting for when the twins came back.

 It didn't take long. He wasn't home for even twenty minutes before he heard them laughing. They walked into the living room, and stopped when they noticed Ethan sitting there. "How long have you been home?" Evie asked, somewhat cautious. "Not long," Ethan said, glancing up from the paper. "What were you two doing?" 

 "Training," they both said quickly. Ethan looked back up from the paper and got a good look at them. Jacob was holding his hat, and he was soaked. Evie was soaked up to her knees. "Why, pray tell, are you wet?" Ethan asked, knowing he wasn't going to get a straight answer. "Nothing," Jacob said, not meeting his eyes. The two glanced at each other, before starting to laugh again. Ethan folded up the paper. "What's so funny you two?" 

 "Nothing, Father," Evie said. "At least, nothing you'd get." Ethan just shook his head. "Fine. Go train outside to dry off. You're dripping all over the floors." Jacob gave a mock bow. "Yes, Father." He turned on his heel, walking out, and Evie sighed before following him. Ethan glanced at the ceiling, running a hand down his face. He was a great interrogator, and could easily wrestle the truth out of even the hardiest Templars. But his kids... No, his kids were a completely different story indeed.

 


	10. Chapter 10

 "Jacob, watch your left!" Ethan called out, wincing as Evie slammed her fist into her brother's side. "Always make sure you're ready for attacks on your weaker side," Ethan said as Jacob lost his balance. "If you're on the offensive, always watch for if your opponent lowers their guard."

 It was two days after their escapade at the river. Ethan had overheard them talking about it after dinner. Apparently Jacob had lost a card game, so he convinced (or duped) the card players to go into the river. The twins had clearly enjoyed seeing the drunks flailing about in the waters, swollen from the spring rains. Ethan was still waiting for the day the card players remembered who nearly drowned them and he'd have to step in. The twins had also wanted to advance their training, which worried him. But since he was going to start advancing them anyway, he obliged, but it worried him as to why. Jacob had a mysterious bruise on his jaw this morning, and was favouring his left leg. He hoped his son wasn't using his Assassin training to rile up the thugs that wandered the streets at night.

 It might have been a bad idea, but Ethan had told them to spar with no holds barred, hoping that, by being at a disadvantage due to his injuries, it would deter Jacob from at least getting into fights. Every time he'd show up with a new injury, he'd get beat on by Evie. If he wanted to beat Evie, he'd stop getting into fights and getting injured. Hopefully.

 George walked out of the house, carrying two canes. "Found them," he said, coming up to stand beside Ethan. "That took a bit," Ethan replied, not taking his eyes off the twins. "You have too many weapons in that room," George said, annoyed. "What are you going to need them for?" Ethan shrugged. "You never know when you might need a sword or two." George stood silent for a moment, before muttering, "I suppose."

 "Jacob! Evie!" Ethan yelled, beckoning them over. "Let's move onto something else." Evie came over first, shaking her wrist. "I punched him wrong," she said, looking back at Jacob. He was holding his side, limping a little. "It sure  _felt_ right!" he snapped, wincing. "I'm going to be so sore tomorrow."  _Serves you right,_ Ethan thought. "You've mastered the sword. Now it's time for the weapon you'll use the second most, next to your Hidden Blade," Ethan explained, gesturing at the canes. "Are we going to be smacking people with sticks?" Jacob asked, and Ethan chuckled. "Not quite." He nodded at George. "Let's show them."

 They walked out into the yard, George tossing a cane at Ethan. It rattled as he grabbed it. It was different from the one he took to the school, but it would do to show the twins. He glanced over at them. "Watch and learn," he said with a smirk. He nodded at George. "You first."

 George swung at Ethan's right, but he easily knocked it away. George tried again, this time on the left. Ethan blocked it again, stepping back. George stopped, eyes flicking briefly to Ethan's legs before glancing back up. He looked Ethan in the eyes as he swung. "You can't trick me  _that_ easily," Ethan huffed, using his bracer to stop the cane from hitting him in the head. "I might as well try," George responded, trying to hit him in the side. Ethan blocked it easily.

 He kept blocking George's attacks, waiting to find an opening. For a brief moment, George stopped, and Ethan started to swing. He took George by surprise, but he quickly got his bearings and started blocking his attacks, although Ethan still got some hits in. "Come on, George," Ethan barked, yanking out George's legs from underneath him with the handle of the cane, "you're better than this." Ethan whipped the sword out of the cane, pointing the blade at George's neck before he could respond. George looked up the blade at him, trying to catch his breath. "I'm in my forties, Ethan," he wheezed. Ethan shook his head.  _You were just telling me not to call you old a couple days ago._ "Nonsense. You just need to start sparring with me again."

 He looked over at the twins, who were watching with wide eyes. They always looked like that when he fought, and loved watching him and George go at it. He sheathed the sword and helped George up. "See? It's a bit more than smacking things with a stick," he told Jacob, who let out a small laugh. "I always wondered why you carried that cane around when we go out shopping and such. Does yours have a sword, too?" Ethan nodded. "Of course. It's one of the most useful weapons you can have on your person, other than your blade and a revolver." He handed his son the cane sword. "Here. You two can spar with them, and then I'll teach you techniques." George tossed Evie his cane sword and the two ran out where Ethan and George had sparred, eager to smack their sibling with a cane. 

 Ethan leaned again a stack of boxes that stood against the back wall, crossing his arms and resting his chin on his left hand. George glanced at him, looking back at the twins before doing a double take. "You're wearing your blades, right?" 

 "Yes," Ethan said cautiously, knowing full well where this conversation was going. George sighed. "I wish you'd stop doing that. What do you think the Council will think when they learn one of their best Assassins stabbed himself in the head?" Ethan shrugged. "Hasn't happened yet. Besides, you cross your arms all the time. What if your blade engages while you're doing that?" 

 "Being stabbed in the arm is far better than being stabbed in the head, Ethan," George said, but Ethan saw the flicker that crossed his friend's face. George had always been somewhat paranoid, and his paranoia seemed to be getting worse the older he got. Maybe it was a result from being mugged and being unable to defend himself. Maybe it was a result of something from George's past. Ethan never bothered to ask, knowing George wouldn't answer and they'd just talk in circles until one of them got fed up. Even just telling him about it tended to rile George up. "Your paranoia is going to kill one of us someday," Ethan muttered, looking back at the twins. "Hopefully it'll be you," George retorted. "You're too reckless, Ethan. You've got to listen to me someday before a Templar sticks a knife into your back." 

 "Won't happen," Ethan scoffed, knowing it would piss George off more. "Besides, when was the last time I did something reckless? I think it was before the twins were born." George let out a dark laugh. "You're partially right. You did do something right after the twins were born." Ethan dropped his arm, turning to look at George. His friend had a dark look in his eyes. "What?" Ethan asked, tensing. George stared at him. "You ran away to India."

 He was right, of course, but Ethan wasn't going to let him know that. He opened his mouth to argue, but stopped himself, unable to think of anything. George smirked, turning to look at the twins.  _So much for not letting him know,_ Ethan thought, turning back to the twins.

 They were doing well, but it was still more of them hitting each other with glorified branches than anything else. Jacob would keep backing away from Evie's attacks, and try to jab her while she readied for another swing. "Evie! Use the handle to pull him closer if he keeps backing up!" Ethan yelled, flexing his fingers. He was in a stabbing mood, but he couldn't just go running into London to find The Ghost. He didn't think he would like that Ethan just called for him just so he could stab something.

 He glanced over at George, who had started watching Ethan again, the dark look still in his eyes, but there was something unreadable too. Their gazes met, and they just stared silently, until George let out an awkward sigh, and turned away, trying to pull his hood further down his face. Ethan let out a small chuckle. "Man, I love getting on your nerves. You tend to forgive me so easily." 

 "Because I'm your friend," George muttered, not looking at Ethan. "And our arguments tend to be stupid, anyway." Ethan pat him on the back. "Those are the only arguments that get on your nerves. Come on, let's go teach the twins some moves."


	11. Chapter 11

 The sound of silence greeted Ethan as he made his way back to his house, which worried him greatly. He had just come back from a mission he took after the school closed for the day, and was expecting the twins to be outside training, or maybe just watching the clouds on the rooftop, like they usually did when he worked late. Except all he could hear where the distant sounds of the city and the birds in the trees. He quickly leaped off the roof, landing softly in front of the door. He quietly opened it, and nearly collapsed with relief when he heard talking from the kitchen. _You were calling George paranoid, and yet here you are._ Maybe all Master Assassins had a deep fear that one day they’d come home to find their family slaughtered.

 He walked over, standing in the doorway. They had just finished eating and were talking about fighing. Jacob was rubbing a dark spot on his neck and Evie was favouring her right arm. “What were you guys doing today?” he asked, and they both turning to look at him. “Well, we _were_ training,” Jacob said, pointing at the bruise, “but she hit me in the neck.”

 “After you nearly broke my wrist!” Evie snapped at him. Jacob just shrugging innocently. “All’s fair in love and war.” Evie grabbed his hat off his head and smacked him with it. “So stop complaining about your neck!”

 Ethan laughed. He loved seeing his kids tease each other. Maybe it was a result of being an only child, or maybe because he was raised rigorously as an Assassin, but he felt the twins had more opportunities than him growing up. It made him more determined to show them that they had a choice in what they became. Jacob got up from his chair and grabbed the tail of Ethan’s robes. He shot Evie a look, and then turned to Ethan with an almost eager expression. “Hey Father, why are you wet?”

 Ethan glanced down at his robes, remembering the mission. He had to give chase to the target, which ended up near the river. Push came to shove, and Ethan drowned him in the river when the man didn’t give any answers he wanted. It was a mistake on his part- he’d rather a clean kill with little suffering- but the target was dead. That's what mattered in the end. Ethan let out a nervous chuckle. “Work.”

 “What kind of work involves getting this wet?” Evie asked, walking up beside Jacob. “ _Our_ work,” he said, which shut them up. Any mention about Assassin missions tended to do that. He shook a bit of water from his robes, reprimanding himself for getting so much water on the floor. “If you need me, I’ll be in my study.” He turned to leave, but stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Please keep it down tonight. I’m heading to bed early because I’ve got a meeting with the Council before work.” Jacob and Evie exchanged a glance, saying nothing. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, turning back around and walking down the hallway.

 The twins had put some letters on his desk. He took of his robes and hung them over the spare chair, reaching for them before realizing his shirt was also soaked through. He let out a small sigh, taking off his shirt but leaving his still soaked undershirt on. He grabbed the first letter, opening it, before quickly throwing it into the fireplace. Another letter talking about his Ghost. They really wanted him to rethink this plan of his, but he couldn’t now. Not while The Ghost was in such a deadly position. If he gave the order to give up now, he risked his life, the life Ethan had saved by bringing him to London.

 The other letter was also from the Council, just reminding him about their meeting. He shoved it into a desk drawer, sitting down with a heavy sigh. He reached over and grabbed the book on his desk, a book about the Pieces of Eden. Evie must’ve been reading it. He flipped through it, stopping on a page about the Apples of Eden.

 He was caught up with reading, so a sudden knock on his window made him shoot up, reaching for his revolver. He dropped it when he realized it was only George. He walked over, opening it up, and let George climb in. “Why didn’t you take the front door?” Ethan asked, closing the window. “Precaution,” George said. “There were already officers around when I killed my target.” Ethan glanced at his friend’s blood soaked arm. “Oh, yes. I sent you on one, didn’t I? How'd that go?"

 George winced. "Okay. He's dead." Ethan nodded at his arm. "Where's all that blood from?" George looked down at it, and Ethan noticed his blade was still engaged, also dripping with blood. "Some of it's from him. He got me in the arm with this knife," he said, pulling a knife out of his pocket. Ethan grabbed it and looked it over. "Wouldn't mind having a knife like this for myself," he muttered absentmindedly, before remembering George. "Do you want something to wrap around your arm before you head home?"

 "That would be nice," George said, starting to take off his robes. Ethan walked out, trying to remember where he kept bandages. It'd been a while since he'd gotten terribly injured on a mission, and even Jacob hadn't come home with anything worse than a twisted ankle. He decided to just go grab a spare piece of cloth from the eaves, and turned to the stairs.

 The twins had gone outside, and were laying in the grass, talking quietly. Ethan stopped to watch them for a bit, thinking. Once he got the artifact, he'd take them out on a mission with him, so they could practice killing. He'd have to teach them how to strike from above beforehand, but it wasn't hard to learn. He got it in one day, and even George got it down easily.

 He shook his head, heading up the stairs. He walked into the spare room where he-or maybe it was George- had thrown Cecily's stuff after her death. Her robes were hung on the wall, and Ethan stood silent. He always avoided this room. He'd always kept fabric and unimportant books in this room. It was just a storage room. But, whenever he needed something from it, he'd get the twins to fetch it. They used to ask about the robes and Hidden Blades in the room, but when he wouldn't answer they eventually stopped. He'd told himself he'll tell them more about Cecily someday, but every time he'd think about it, he'd give up. Part of him wasn't ready to tell them the answers yet.

 He walked over to a small chest, pointedly ignoring the robes, and opened it. Inside was a variety of different sized cloth, some ripped for bandages, others used by Ethan to mend holes in his robes and the twin's clothes. He reached for a white cloth, before deciding to grab red. It would be under George's robes, but red looked better bled on.

 He quickly left the room, noticing two shadows pass by the window. Ethan sighed, hoping the twins were just sitting out on the roof, and not going into town to cause trouble. He quickly went downstairs, heading into the study. George had taken off his robes and was leaning on Ethan's desk, his hand covering the wound. "I haven't seen you without your robes on in a long time," Ethan said, throwing the cloth down on his desk. "I haven't seen you without a shirt for a while," George muttered back, lifting his head. Ethan glanced down at his undershirt. "It got wet."

 "I'm not even going to bother asking why," George said with a sigh, rolling up his sleeve. Ethan gave an awkward shrug. "I had to drown somebody."

 "I said I wasn't going to ask," George replied, looking back up at Ethan again. "You were thinking it," Ethan said, walking over. He glanced at the wound, which was on his upper arm and bleeding profusely. "He got you good," Ethan said with a whistle. George winced as Ethan poked around it. "I was being a little reckless."

 "What?" Ethan said with a smile, grabbing the cloth. "You? George Westhouse? Being reckless? Who are you want what have you done to my friend?" George let out a soft laugh. "Shut up."

 "I'm being serious." Ethan slowly wrapped the cloth around his arm, realizing he probably took too long of a piece. "You're never reckless. That's me." George shrugged. "I can have stupid ideas too," he said, glancing around the room. "Where are the twins?"

 "Hopefully out on the roof," Ethan said, tying the cloth. "If not, out on the town."  He pat George on the back. "There, done." George reached over and grabbed his robes, but didn't put them on. "What?" Ethan asked, grabbing the book he'd left on his desk. "Nothing," George said quietly, watching Ethan. "You just sounded so defeated when you said they were hopefully on the roof."

 "I've given up stopping Jacob from going out," Ethan explained, putting the book back in the shelf. "He won't listen, matter what I say." George smiled. "A bit like you."

 "A lot like me," Ethan admitted. He looked over at George, who quickly stopped looking over. "You're so good with the kids. Why didn't you ever marry?" Ethan asked. "I never wanted to," George mumbled. "The only person I fell in love with was already married. Won't have noticed me, anyway."

 "Ooh. Who are we talking about? A merchant's daughter? The daughter of the owner of the mill you worked at? Someone from out of town?" Ethan asked eagerly, quickly bounding over. His friend got more flustered the closer Ethan got. "No," he mumbled, pulling on his robes. "I should be getting home, it's getting late," he said quickly, changing the subject.

 "I should be getting to bed. The Council wants to talk to me tomorrow," Ethan said, stretching. "Hopefully it's nothing bad. Probably about The Ghost." George pulled on his hood. "They really don't like this plan of yours, do they?" he asked, walking over to the window. "Like you," Ethan answered, "They'd rather I stop London activities all together. But I'm so close, George, I can feel it."

 "Well, I hope this feeling of yours doesn't get you and him killed," George said, climbing out the window. Ethan walked over. "It won't, trust me," he said, closing the window before George could say anything else about it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did this chapter as somewhat of a filler as I try to finish this next big one. Also, you may notice that this is now in a series! I'm planning on doing a bunch of fics around this kind of subject, like one in the twin's pov, one in George's pov, and a Lydia one. I had to put the series now because otherwise I'd never get my act together and actually start them, but I did start the one in George's pov, Brotherhood. It should have an update sometime soon.

_The ride to Croydon was almost silent, save for Ethan's muttering and sobs. He had his head in his hands, occasionally shaking his head. "Why her? Why her George?"  he asked, again, lifting his head to peak at his friend over his hands. Again, George didn't answer, and Ethan contemplated punching the wall of the carriage. He put his head in his hands again, sighing. "If you don't want me to stay with you just tell me."_

_"I was the one who offered," George said, the first thing he'd said the entire ride. "It wasn't you who had the idea, though," Ethan muttered. George didn't respond for a moment, the carriage lurching to a halt. Etha looked back up at him, noticing his friend looked conflicted. "You needed to get out of Crawley," he said at last, looking down at his hands. Ethan dropped his own into his lap, balling his hands into fists. "Who knows what you would've done if you had stayed," George added with a hint of anger. "I would've stayed with my wife, for one thing," Ethan spat, standing up and opening the carriage door forcefully. "What else would you have done when they've taken her body away?" George asked, and Ethan felt a flash of rage, matching the grief he felt. "What do you know?" he snapped as he leaped out of the carriage, part of him knowing it was worthless to start a fight over something as trivial as this, but part of him was relishing it._

_"I know the look you had whenever we mentioned the twins, Ethan," George said, leaping out of the carriage after him. He slammed the door with a glare. "It's the same look that you have whenever you talk about killing a target."_

_"They killed her, George!" he snarled, rounding on his friend. "What else am I supposed to fucking think?" George stood his ground, shaking his head. "Imagine if Cecily could see you now," he said with a hint of contempt, and Ethan let out a cry of rage and lunged, engaging his blade at the same time. George side stepped, a flicker of surprise in his eyes when he noticed the flash of his blade. Ethan turned back around, seething. "What the fuck do you know about her that I don't, huh? I'm her husband!"_

_"Clearly more than you!" hissed George, and Ethan lunged again, this time catching George off guard. Ethan got his friend to the ground, pinning him with his knees. He pressed his left forearm against his throat, raising his right, blade engaged, ready to strike, but he didn't. Some part of him knew he would be in deep shit if he stabbed-or, as he was trying to do,_  kill _\- George, and not just mentally, either. George glared up at him, struggling to breathe. He got a wicked smile when he noticed Ethan's hesitation. "Come on, do it. Stab me. Or are you too weak to?"_

_Ethan let out another cry of rage, but was stopped as a voice called out," Frye! Westhouse! What the fuck are you two doing?"  Ethan looked over his shoulder, noticing one of the Council members standing where the carriage had been moments before. He stared for a moment, before turning back to George, increasing the pressure on his throat. "You called him here," he snarled, and George gave a meek shrug. "It was for other business," he managed, trying to push Ethan's arm away. "Trust me, Ethan," he gasped, panicking as Ethan's grip didn't let up._

_"Frye!" snapped the Council member. "Get off him, now!" Ethan glared down at George, who snarled, "If you want to stay with me, you will get off of me, or else you find your own way back to Crawley." He didn't want to go back to his house, where memories of Cecily were the strongest. "Fuck you," he growled, lifting his arm, but keeping him pinned. "Frye," warned the Council member, and Ethan shot him a glare. "I'm not killing him."_

_"Get off him," the Council member ordered, rubbing his face as Ethan obeyed. He kicked George in the side as he stood, and George tried to grab his leg. "Stop it," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Now, would you like to tell me why two of my best Assassins are fighting out in the middle of the street?" George stood up, and exchanged a heated glance with Ethan. "It's a long story," Ethan began, and the Council member crossed his arms across his chest. "A story I likely need to hear." Ethan dropped his gaze, grief taking over again. He took a deep breath, but George spoke first. "Cecily Frye is dead."_

* * *

 He came back from Croydon one dark evening. He was talking to George about his killing of Robert Waugh, and couldn't shake the feeling George knew he was lying about the entire thing. It would be like him not to say anything. As long as Ethan wasn't actively breaking the tenants of the Creed, George tended to let him do what he liked, whether it was right or not. Ethan should really be a better role model to his students, past or otherwise. 

 The twins were sitting the living room, talking quietly. Ethan walked over, taking off his cowl. "I'm home." They both turned to look at him, both looking surprised. "I thought you said you were just going to the slums," Evie said. "Why are you back so late?"  Ethan shrugged of his robes, trying to shake the vision of the little girl. "I had to go to Croydon quickly. Assassin-" 

 "Assassin business," Jacob interrupted it, yawning. "It's always Assassin business. You never head to George's place unless it's Assassin business." Ethan stared at him. "How did you know I was at George's place?" Jacob titled his head back, looking at the ceiling, a bored look on his face that was much like his mother's. "Scratch that, you never head to Croydon unless it's Assassin business at George's place."

 "Perceptive little bugger, aren't you?" Ethan muttered, hanging up his robes. "Did you two train today?" 

 "Of course we did," Evie said. "We'd never forget that." Jacob sat up, pointing at Evie. "I beat her once today." Ethan smiled. "Good, Jacob! Hopefully you two can get to the point where you can draw each time. Your mother and I used to train so much we'd be able to tell each other's next move before we ourselves knew."

 The twins grew silent, and Ethan grew concerned. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, and Evie stared at the floor as she quietly asked, "Father, when are you going to tell us more about Mother?" Ethan was the one to go silent this time as Jacob piped up, "George has told us far more than you have, for fuck's sake. Why can't you tell us anything about her?" Ethan looked up at his son. "Jacob, language," he said sharply, and Jacob shrugged. "Whoops. But the question still stands, Father."

 Ethan sat down heavily on one of the chairs, putting his head into his hands. "It's a hard subject for me to talk about," he mumbled. "It was a really hard time for me once she passed. I almost killed George." Both twins snapped their heads to look at him. "This sounds like a story," Jacob said, but Ethan waved him off. "It's a story for later. I'd rather tell you about when she was alive." He shook his head as tears pricked his eyes. "When she was well." Jacob leaned back in his chair, sighing. "Fine, but promise me you'll tell us sometime." 

 "Oh, I'm sure I will. If not me, George will," Ethan said, sitting back. "How about I tell you about when we trained George. It was quite an adventure for her and I. I already had trained her into the Brotherhood, and I was also a teacher. This was her first trainee." He shook his head with a chuckle. "She had her fun." With a quick check of his watch to make sure it wasn't too late, he started on the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed I can't not write a chapter without George in it. Ethan just seems like he needs his friend there to help him out.


	13. Chapter 13

 Today was finally the day. The only thing he’d looking forward to since the botched attempt to get the artifact a year ago. It was the twin’s first killing. Not a major assassination attempt, as Ethan would be the one taking out their target, but it would get them used to how it felt.

 Ethan stood at the bottom of the stairs, calling for them to get armed. They took a bit longer than usual, and when they came down they looked less ready than he’d thought. “You sure you’re ready?” he asked, strapping on his blades and throwing on his robes. “Yup,” they said in unison, a little too much feeling put into it. He stopped, trying to read their expressions. “You’re still thinking about that man, aren’t you?”

 They didn’t say anything, but Ethan could tell by the look they exchanged that they were. Part of him was annoyed by it. It’d been more than a year since Ajay killed himself after betraying the Brotherhood. He thought they’d be over that by now. But, he supposed, Ajay’s death had been both a traumatic surprise and the first death the twins had seen. Even Ethan was still shook by his suicide.

 He smiled at them. “Don’t worry, it’s not going to be like that. I promise.” When they didn’t look convinced, he put a hand on his chest. “I’ve killed numerous Templars, and that man’s death startled me, too. Killing Templars is far different from a man killing himself out of shame.”  The twins exchanged another glance, then looked at their father and nodded.

 He started towards the door, but stopped. “Oh yes,” he said, whipping around, fast, startling the twins. “Careful, don’t want you smashing your head off the wall before we leave,” Jacob said, getting a hold of himself. “Won’t happen. I have impeccable balance. But that’s not the point,” Ethan said. “The point is, you two are going to get hidden blades for this.”

 “Really?” Jacob asked, and both of them looked cheered up. “Yes, really,” Ethan said, amused by their sudden change in attitude. “Will we be able to keep them?” Evie asked, flexing her left hand. “Of course. It’ll only be the left one though,” he said apologetically. “You’ll get your right one later, when you’re more experienced with it.”

 The twins looked at each other again, previous misgivings forgotten in the excitement to get a Hidden Blade. Ethan felt a rush of pride as he watched them, along with a pang of fear. It was an easy mission, as easy as killing a Templar could get, but they were inexperienced with real foes. They could get brutally injured, or worse. He didn’t think he could live with himself if one of them died. Say nothing of what the other one would feel. He kept telling himself that it was their duty to go fight Templars, that Assassins should not fear death. But ever since Cecily’s death he was terrified of it. He shook his head, trying to rid himself from his dark thoughts, heading outside with the twins following close behind.

 He easily climbed his neighbour’s wall, stopping on the roof for a moment to stare down at their garden. Ever since he’d noticed how much bigger it was than his while chasing Ajay, he’d been stopping to watch it more often than he should be. He was jolted out of his jealousy as Jacob yanked his hood down and started running, Evie following close behind. “Hey!” Ethan yelled, pulling back on his hood. “You don’t even know where you’re going!” Jacob stopped, turning around with a glint in his eyes. “Hurry up and tell us than!” Ethan chuckled before responding, “The train yard. George will be waiting for us there.”

 Jacob and Evie took off again, Evie laughing as Jacob nearly lost his footing. They leaped the roofs with such ease, like they’d done the route time and time again. Ethan followed, staying behind them so he could be alone with his thoughts.

* * *

 

 George was waiting in the shadow of a chimney talking to the twins as Ethan arrived. “Took you long enough,” Jacob said, taking off his hat to fan himself with it. “It’s not a race, Jacob,” Ethan said, out of breath. It was summer, and running along roofs in robes wasn’t the most cooling activity out there. George and Evie both looked more affected than Jacob and him, as their robes where a darker colour. Ethan didn’t pity them.

 He nodded at the bag George had sitting next to him. “Is that their blades?” he asked, and George nodded. “They’re quite interesting, actually,” he said, pulling out two gauntlets out of the bag. “Different than most blades.” He handed one to each of them, and Jacob quickly put it on. “Remember how to calibrate it?” Ethan asked them both, and they both nodded. “Good.” Ethan turned to look at George. “Who’s the unlucky sap today?”

 “An ex-solider named Kent Jettingham,” George said, crossing his arms. “He’s from America, but he left three years back and created a small railroad company.” Jacob let out an amused snort. “Why would a solider leave service and go become a manager? At a railroad company in England nonetheless?” George smiled. “You tell me. I was as surprised as you are when the Council told me.

 "Anyway, we have no idea exactly how deep his connections to the Templars run, or if he even is one, but he’s been supplying them for some time now.” Ethan turned to look at the rail yard and George stepped up to stand beside him. “He’s in Crawley expecting a shipment. He should be in the yard, inspecting his engines.”

 “ _Should_ be,” Ethan muttered, watching the workers go about their business, trying to spot anything suspicious. “It’s never that easy, is it?” George let out a chuckle. “No, it’s not. But we can hope it is.” He turned away, and Ethan glanced back to watch his friend gracefully leap over to one of the nearby roofs. “Come report to me after you’re done. I’ll be above the square.”

 Ethan nodded before turning to the twins. "Come on, we need to get higher." Both twins followed, pulling up their cowls as he lead them up an abandoned factory nearby. He walked over to the edge closest to the rail yard, turning to look back at the twins. "Use your Eagle Vision to see if you can find anything." 

 Both nodded, and they watched the yard in silence, Ethan watching them. Jacob pointed out at one of the offices. "He's in there, dealing with some paperwork. It's guarded, though. This entire place is," he added, gesturing around the yard. "There's a guy with a key, though," Evie said, pointing over at a stumbling guard. "I don't know why they gave the key to him, he clearly believes nothing's going to happen. He's very drunk. Almost your level of 'It's November Ninth' drunk, Father."

 "Hey," he breathed, and Jacob looked at him. "It's true. He just doesn't have the decency to go hide in his room. Or someone else's house." 

 "We're not talking about that now," Ethan growled. "Stay focused." Both twins looked at him before exchanging a look. "Steal the key, kill the guards around the door, and we should be home free," Jacob said as he turned back to the yard. "As long as no one else comes in, I suppose."

 "Good," Ethan said. He watched as a guard walked by near the factory.  _They're gang members. Why didn't they hire actual guards for this?_ "You two need to learn how to kill," he said, gesturing at the guard. "I'll show you what I do, and then you can try on some others. Just remember this," he added sternly, looking between the twins. "It may  _look_ easy, but it's not. It's never easy. No matter how many times you've done it, killing a man can get to you. No matter how many times I can tell you, your blade will feel different going into flesh than it does dummies, and it's a  _bad_ different." The twins exchanged a glance. "Did you get all that?" Ethan asked, and the twins nodded. "Good. Keep it in mind as I show you."

 He slid down the drain pipe, landing quietly on the ground. He crept behind a pile of crates, glancing over top to see if the guard was coming by, and, luckily, he was. He glanced back up at the twins, before standing up and digging his blade into the guard's heart, the motion familiar, the feeling familiar but no less jarring. The guard let out a sputter, some blood landing on Ethan's face, and he dropped him quietly, disengaging his blade as he did so. He looked back up at the twins, who stared wide-eyed down at the body. "Come on," he called quietly, beckoning them in case they couldn't hear him. 

 They slid down, walking over, still looking at the body. Ethan looked down at it before clapping his hands quietly together and looking at the twins. "That's how a stealth kill is done. Now, where's the next guard?" he asked, and both looked around. Evie pointed at a corner. "He's going to be coming around here in a moment." 

 "Good," Ethan breathed, ushering them behind the crates. "We'll use the body as a distraction. While he's crouching over it, one of you will come up behind him and stab him in the back like I've taught you. Now," he said, looking between them. "Who wants to go first?"

 "I will," Jacob said, surprisingly eager, but his eyes still had that nervous look. "Okay," Ethan said, shifting over. "Wait by this corner. Evie, me and you will go hide behind that wall so we can watch around the corner." 

 Evie confidently followed him, and they got behind the wall just as the other guard walked in. He noticed the body with a jolt, and he walked over, glancing around as he went. "Was it a Clinker?" he asked as he walked by Ethan's hiding place. "What's a Clinker?" Evie quietly asked Ethan, and he shrugged. "A gang in London. They oppose the Blighters. No reason for them to be here, though." He let out a quiet laugh. "He's going to get a nasty surprise."

 The guard crouched over the body, shaking his head. He examined the wound, looking around. Ethan held his breath as Jacob stood up and quietly stalked over to stand behind him. He did nothing, even as the guard stood up. "Come on, Jacob," Ethan breathed. "This is not the time for theatrics." 

 Jacob still stood as the guard quickly looked from side to side again. He seemed to realize someone was standing behind him, and he whipped around, staring wide-eyed at Jacob. Jacob smirked. "Hello," he said, and the guard was about to let out a yell as Jacob dug his blade into his throat. The yell turning into a silent gasp, and he relaxed, Jacob slowly lowering him to the ground. Ethan let out a loud sigh.  _I'll need to talk to him about that,_ he thought, as the sound of hurried footsteps spooked him. "What are you doing here?" a man asked as Ethan and Evie both turned. He opened his mouth to call out, but Evie quickly walked over and put her right hand over his mouth. At the same time, she engaged her blade on her left and dug it into his chest. Ethan walked over to grab him as he dropped, quietly placing him down. 

 He glanced down at the guard, making sure he was dead, before looking up at Evie. "Good job." Evie beamed, before shrugging. "Well you were too far away to do anything, so it was either act or possibly lose the target." Ethan smiled. "What you did was good." He looked over his shoulder as Jacob walked over. He looked down at the body. "What happened here?" he asked. "He spotted us," Evie said, before holding out her bloodied blade. "I killed him before Father." Jacob smiled. "That's my sister!"

 Ethan stood up. "I'm proud of you both. How did it feel?" he asked, making a stabbing motion with his hand. "Weird," Evie said after a moment. "It is different, like you said." Ethan nodded. "I should've taken you hunting. You'd have been used to that feel. That's how I got George used to it." He shook his head. "That's neither here nor there. Now, we're going to split up. You two clear the perimeter. I'll get the key and go to the office, and you'll head up there after you're done."

 The twins nodded, Jacob pointing over to the left. "The drunk's over there now, trying to chat up a cat I think." Jacob dropped his arm, thinking. "We were wrong to compare him to you when you're drunk on our birthday. He's _far_ past that point." 

 "Thank you," Ethan said sardonically. "Again, focus on the job. Remember what I always say?" The twins glanced at each other. " 'Don't allow personal feelings to compromise the mission'?" Evie asked, and Ethan nodded. "Yes, exactly. That means, even if I'm in trouble, or your sibling, if it's in the way of your goal, ignore it and focus on the target. Like right now for example," he explained. "Right now, you're focusing on your anger about my drinking habits-which are my _own personal problem_ , by the way- instead of the mission. Stop letting it take you over."

 "But it's not just your problem-" Jacob began, and Ethan hushed him. "See?" he said, looking between the twins. "Stop letting your feelings distract you from your mission." He remembered how George reacted to this new philosophy of his.  _Of course they'll fall in love,_ he thought.  _They just need to learn not to let their love get in their way, like it has for me._  "Go on, I'll see you later," Ethan said, turning to walk off, ignoring Jacob's loud sigh.

* * *

 

Stealing the key was easy. All he had to do was walk up behind him and yank it out of his pocket. Killing the guards outside the office was easy, too. Just a blade into each of their necks, and they were taken care of. He quietly unlocked the door, kicking it open. "Hello, Mister Jettingham," Ethan said smoothly, engaging his hidden blades. "Oh, Mister Frye," Kent said, spinning around and backing up against his desk.  _Surprising. The ex-solider, cowering away from a fight._

Ethan knew he was armed; it'd be stupid to go without at least a side arm. A cane stood against the desk at arm's length of Kent. That had to be a sword. He had hoped that the twins would be done by now, so they could see how he killed major targets, and how he treated them after death, but there must've been more guards than he thought.  _Or they're laying dead on the cobblestones just waiting for you to find them._

 Kent watched him, wary. "What are you doing here, Frye?" Ethan lifted his blade so it flashed in the light. "You know why." Kent shifted, moving closer to his cane. "I never thought I'd be worthy enough prey for a Master Assassin of your caliber." Ethan watched his hand out of the corner of his eye, waiting for him to grab the cane. "I'm surprised as well." Not entirely the truth, but he didn't want Kent to know about the twins. Not yet.

 The sound of the door crashing open surprised him, and he turned, not too much, but enough to take his eyes off Kent and his cane. He barely had time to register that it was the twins, not Templars, that had burst in as a cane smashed into the side of his head. "Shit," he breathed, stumbling, trying to regain his balance. So it wasn't a sword; it was weighted. "Are you okay?" Evie asked, and he shook his head to get rid of the dizziness. "Yes. That was just a rookie mistake."

 "Do you need help?" Jacob asked, engaging his blade. "Watch the door just in case any of his help tries to come. I mean it, Jacob," he added harshly as his son huffed.

 "Now that that's out of the way," Ethan said, turning back to Kent. "I can focus on you." Kent swung his cane in a loop. "So, the rumours were true," he said, dropping his cane, starting to pace. "You had children."

 "How did-" Ethan began, before Kent cut him off. "The Order as spies everywhere, Frye. Makes me wonder if the other rumors regarding your family are true." Ethan lunged, but Kent easily stepped out of the way. "What rumour?" he growled, watching Kent as he started pacing again. "A particularly  _nasty_ one," Kent said with a smirk. "One that would ruin your reputation with your kids if they found out."

 "What rumour?" Ethan asked again, stepping forward. Kent just stepped back. "That you  _hated_ your kids after your wife's death. That you wanted them  _dead._ That you blamed  _them_ for your loss."

 "No!" Ethan snarled, well aware that his tone suggested otherwise. He lunged at the Templar again, but Kent easily avoided it. Ethan was knocked off balance, and Kent took the opportunity to slam his cane on his back. "So it  _is_ true. What a dysfunctional family you have, Mister Frye."

 I've gotten over that," Ethan gasped, trying to stand back up. "I was young and, dare I say,  _stupid_ then." Kent just laughed, slamming his cane into Ethan's back again. Ethan cried out in pain and slid back to the floor. "Have you? Or are you just waiting for the day they're old enough so they can finally leave you, and so you won't have their blood on your hands?"

 He walked away from Ethan's prone form, heading towards the twins. "Stubborn old fool. He wouldn't be lying there if he'd just accepted your help." Ethan lifted his head to stare at the twins. They were both watching him, Evie with a curious, yet sad, expression, but Jacob had something dark in his eyes. Ethan locked eyes with him and shook his head slightly, mouthing out one order.  _Distract him._

Evie looked at Kent. "Do you really think a simple cane will stop him?" Kent stopped, spinning his cane once, before holding it in both hands. "Oh, this is not just a simple cane. It's specially made, with enough weight to break a human bone." He lowered it. "Shall I show you? I can break your leg, your arm- or maybe," he said, pointing it at Jacob. "I'll give you a gash on the other side of your head, to match the other wound, hm?" Ethan lifted his head again to look at his son. There was a cut above his right eye, bleeding profusely.  _That'll scar,_ Ethan thought, surprised Jacob could see through the blood.

 "I don't really want to mess up my pretty face more than it already is," Jacob was saying, his voice betraying none of his emotions, just how Ethan taught him. "I like it just the way it is."

 "Oh come on," Kent said, raising the cane above his head. Jacob raised his arm to block the blow, and Evie stood ready to lunge once he struck. "Don't be such a poor sport-" Kent was cut off by the sound of a gun, before stumbling away as the bullet hit him in the side. Ethan dropped his revolver, quickly getting to his feet and rushing over as fast as his back allowed him. 

 Kent had dropped his cane when he was shot, but now he was stumbling towards it, holding his side. Evie kicked it away as he reached for it, and Kent snarled, "Fucking Assassins, always ruining everything."

 "I suppose we do," Ethan said, coming up behind him. Kent barely had time to spin around as Ethan dug his blades into his throat. "Well played," the Templar said, spitting blood on Ethan's face. "I should have expected this." He went slack, Ethan pulling his blades out of his throat and lowered him to the floor in one swift motion. He glanced at his children with a smirk. "Easy."

 "You nearly died," Evie said, staring at him in disbelief. Ethan shrugged. "I underestimated him."  _And I'm getting old,_ he added to himself. He couldn't do the things he could do sixteen years ago, that he was sure.  _Is this how George felt when he realized that he'd have to retire?_ Jacob walked over, shaking blood from his eyes. "What are we going to do with his bastard?" he asked, prodding Kent with his foot. "Don't kick him, Jacob. We respect our kills, even if they're trying to kill us," Ethan said, reaching into his robes. "I'll show you something I do, personally, to my victims." He pulled out a white cloth and wiped some of the blood from Kent's neck. He put the now bloodied cloth back as he stood up, turning to the twins. 

 Jacob looked confused, but Evie's face had lit up. "It's like Altair with the feathers!" Ethan smiled at her. "Exactly!" Jacob just looked more confused, asking, "Wait, why? They'll still bleed over their neck. You aren't changing anything."

 "It's not about changing anything, Jacob," Ethan tried to explain. "It's about respecting-" he stopped as the sounds of rushing footsteps echoed up towards the office. "Time to go," Ethan said, jogging to the window. His back screamed at him, but he elected to ignore it until he got to George. He opened the window and looked towards the roof. It looked clear. He glanced back at his children, who were staring at the ceiling with that strange, otherworldly focus in their eyes. Evie looked at her father and said, "It's clear."

 "Good," Ethan said, climbing out the window halfway so he could twist and grab the top till. "Follow me."

* * *

  Soon the Fryes were making their way across the roofs of Crawley, their hunters left behind at the rail yard. Ethan's back was killing him, and he couldn't wait to report to George so he could head home. But the twins seemed to have other plans. They were slower than usual, which concerned Ethan. Maybe the killing got to them, or maybe Ajay's suicide. He stopped and turned to them, startled by the look in Jacob's eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked, walking over. The two glanced at each other, before Jacob met his father's eyes and asked, "Is it true?"

 "Is what true?" Ethan asked, knowing exactly what Jacob meant, knowing that both answering and not answering would mean the same thing. "You know what I mean, Father. _Answer the question,_ " Jacob said, stepping closer to Ethan. Ethan just looked down at his boots, guilt flooding through him. "Answer the bloody question!" Jacob yelled, his voice breaking. "Do you blame us for Mother's death?"

 "I  _did,_ Jacob. I did." Ethan said, lifting his head to look at Jacob. "But I was young then. I felt like I lost my whole world.  _Of course_ I'd try to blame someone else. If not you, George. If not George, her mother." He looked past Jacob's shoulder to look at Evie, feeling a pang at the hurt in her eyes. Just like Jacob's, except Jacob was trying to disguise his as rage. As he looked back at Jacob, he noticed he had started crying, the tears cutting through the blood on his face. "Trust me when I say I'm over it," Ethan said, looking between them. "Trust me when I say I'd rather die than see any harm done to you." Jacob said nothing, just wiping away a tear, smearing the blood on his face, before running off, towards their house. Ethan looked over at Evie. "Evie..." he said, holding out his hand. She ignored him and turning, heading off after her brother.

 "Fuck," he snarled, watching them leave. What was he supposed to say to make it up to them? It would be hard to trust someone who'd wanted you dead before, especially when you were a child. He look back down at his boots, before looking off towards the square.  _I suppose I should go report to George,_ he thought, letting out a loud sigh that sent a stabbing pain through his back. Glancing back, once, to watch them disappear over the roofs, Ethan started limping off towards his friend. 


	14. Chapter 14

 By the time Ethan got to the square, he could barely move. He sat down on the roof, staring over at the figure that watched him a couple of roofs away, hidden in the shadow of a chimney. After a moment, the figure started to walk over, and Ethan let out a sigh of relief. He slowly stood up, gasping, clutching his back. It didn't help that his head was starting to kill him, either.

 "What happened to you?" George asked, starting a half-jog when he noticed Ethan's pain. "Where are the twins?" Ethan gestured vaguely towards his house, wincing. "Home. They don't really want to be around me right now." George shook his head, sighing. "I suppose you have a lot of questions," Ethan said with a smile, and George nodded. "You always do. You're a lot like Cecily sometimes, you know that?"

 "Why? Because we both cared whenever you got into shit?" George mumbled, not expecting an answer. He reached out and touched the bruise on the side of Ethan's face, and Ethan winced again. "Kind of ruins my handsome face, doesn't it?" Ethan asked with a chuckle, and George quietly muttered, "Not really."

 George was hard to read sometimes. He'd always been good at it, and had only gotten better as he got older and as Ethan trained him. This was one of those times it was hard to tell what he was thinking. If Ethan was naive enough, he'd think George was in love with him. Sometimes he doubted himself, thought that maybe George _was_ in love with him, but they were close friends. Of course he'd care.

 "What happened to your back?" George asked, lightly hitting Ethan on the bruise to snap him out of his thoughts. He hissed, hitting George's hand away. "Jettingham had a cane. I thought it was a sword, but it was weighted," Ethan said with a gesture at his face. "I got this finding that one out. Afterwards I got cocky-" George rolled his eyes- "and he slammed it into my back twice. I don't think I should be walking right now, let alone standing." George shook his head. "What about the twins?"

 Ethan let out a sigh and sat back down on the roof. George sat next to him. "It must be really bad if they don't want to be around you right now." Ethan ran a hand down his face, sighing. "It is. Apparently the Templars had some rumours about me." George glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? Let me guess, they're not just rumours are they?"

 "Nope," Ethan said, noticing his hand came away red. He wiped it on the roof. "They were about the twins." 

 "Oh," George said. Both grew silent, George picking at the tail on his robes while Ethan tried to get the rest of the blood off his face.

 "So they learned I hated them," Ethan said after a moment, using his watch to check if the blood was off. "Of course it was during a mission." George shook his head. "Your luck has been going downhill ever since Cecily's death, hasn't it?" Ethan gave a grim nod. "Seems that way, doesn't it? I  _told_ them to not let personal feelings compromise the mission, but-"

 "You now see how stupid that is?" George asked hopefully, and let out a long sigh when Ethan said nothing. "I really wish you'd let that go." Ethan gave him a look. "It's a good idea, George. Why should a mission fail just because you can't let personal attachments go?"

 "Don't make me lecture you," George muttered, looking back down at the tail of his coat. "So the student becomes the teacher," Ethan said sardonically, knowing that it would get to George just as it got to The Ghost. "What other things do you want to tell me, hm?"

 He let out a yelp as George punched him in the back. He clutched his back, gasping, as George went back to inspecting his coat. "Fucker," Ethan managed, and George let out a dry laugh. "I wouldn't have punched you if you weren't being an asshole." 

 "You didn't have to punch me  _there."_  

 "'Take any opportunity you have'. Isn't that what you've told me?"

 "Will you stop using my words against me?" Ethan gasped, which sent another flash of pain up his back. "I will when you stop being a jackass," George muttered. "Good luck with that," Ethan breathed, and they both grew silent again. 

 After a moment, George, not looking up from his coat, mumbled, "You should get home." Ethan gave him a sly smile. "About that." George dropped his coat, turning to look at Ethan. "You want me to carry you, don't you?" Ethan nodded. "I barely got to this spot. I don't think I'll be able to get off the roof unless I fall." George sighed, "Oh Ethan."

 George stood up, and helped Ethan to his feet. "Make sure you don't bother my back," Ethan said, clutching his back again. "I'm jumping over roofs. Of course it'll hurt your back," George said, before looking down to the cobblestones below. "Unless you want me to steal a carriage." Ethan shook his head. "It'll take too long." George stared at him. "There's one right there. I can easily get it." Ethan just smiled again. "I like the roofs. It's peaceful. Besides, some of those Templars are probably looking for us." 

 "Fine," George sighed, walking over and easily picked up Ethan. Ethan pat his face and wrapped his arm around George's shoulders. "Thank you. I owe you." There was a flicker in George's eyes, not of anger, and he muttered, "Don't mention it."

* * *

 George didn't really talk on the way back, only asking once about if Kent was dead. He wouldn't really look at Ethan, either, and soon Ethan felt himself falling asleep. The only thing stopping him was his head and his back. After a while, George shook him. "How do you plan on getting down?" Ethan opened one eye, and George quickly stopped watching him and looked down the edge of the roof. "Very carefully," Ethan said lazily, and George just shrugged. "Okay," he said, holding Ethan out over the edge. Ethan gripped George's shoulder, hissing. "That's not carefully!"

 "Shit," George said sarcastically. "I thought you said you were like a cat." Ethan smacked him. "Yeah, when I was well! What, did you drop your cat off roofs to see how well he could land?" George chuckled, pulling Ethan back in. "Not on purpose." 

 Ethan wanted to ask what he meant, but George placed him unceremoniously on the roof. He hissed as he landed, rolling onto his side. "Warn me!" George didn't say anything, and Ethan sighed. "You're in a mood, aren't you?" George still didn't say anything as Ethan scrambled to his feet. "You are. You don't look it, but you are. Who pissed you off this time? Except me," he added as George looked over his shoulder at him. George crouched and looked over the edge of the roof, rattling the drain pipe. "No one."

 "Oh come on, you can tell me. I'll kick their ass," he said, taking a step. A flash of pain went up his back, and he weakly smiled. "When I'm better, that is." George rattled the drain pipe again, and Ethan limped over and pat him on the back. "Was it the Council again? They always piss me off." 

 "I'm not like you," George said, but Ethan smiled. "You hate them as much as I do when it comes to their inability to act, don't kid yourself." He looked over the edge, looking at the pipe. He cast a sly glance at George. "Did someone try to flirt with you again?"

 "He always does," he said quietly, before realizing Ethan was standing next to him. " _He?_ " Ethan asked, incredulous. George scrambled away from the edge. "Ignore me," he said quickly, pointing at Ethan as his smiled turned into a wicked one. "Please ignore me, Ethan." 

 "Oh I don't care about that," he said,  _that_ being the man. "I just want to know who always flirts with you." George put his head in his hands and lay on his back. "Come on, Georgie dear. You can tell me."

 George pointed at Ethan again. "I told you to stop calling me that," he mumbled. "Besides, I don't think he's actually flirting. Might just be the way he talks." Ethan looked back over the edge of the roof. "You see it as flirting." He got serious, glancing back at George. "Is that why you've never married?" George let out a muffled sound, which could've been a sob, and said nothing.

 "I don't care about that, George," Ethan said, looking back at the ground, hanging one of his legs off the side. "I just want to know." George didn't move, and Ethan sighed. "I'll take that as a yes. If you want to talk about it, I'll be down on the ground." He looked back at George, before, again, staring at the ground. "Hopefully."

 He twisted, swinging his other leg off, and slowly made his way down. He stopped near the twin's window, both for a break and to see if they did come home. The curtains were across, but if he listened quietly he was able to hear them talking to each other. Jacob still sounded like he was crying.

 Ethan let out a sigh, hitting his head against the bricks. He had a lot of explaining to do, but he was worried Jacob wouldn't take it. Their relationship was already rocky to begin with. He shifted, grabbing the drain pipe and used it to lower himself to the ground. He sat against the wall, grunting in pain. He looked up at the lip of the roof. "I've fucked up a bunch today, haven't I, Cecily?" he said without thinking. He lowered his head. If she were here, she'd scold him about his rash actions, about his back, about his tendency to become careless after a mission was done. But she wasn't, so he started to berate himself. 

 After a while, he stood up, limping towards the front door, stopping as he heard George come down from the roof. "Thought you were planning on camping up there," Ethan said casually, leaning on the door as George walked over. He glanced at his boots. "I'm sorry. I brought it up." George shook his head. "I let it slip," he said quietly. "That wasn't how I was hoping you'd find out. I was hoping you'd never find out." Ethan looked up, rubbing the back of his neck. "I can guess why." George sucked in a breath, and Ethan laughed. "Don't worry, George. It doesn't change anything." He straightened up and opened the door. "Why would it?"

 He limped in, taking off his robes. "Thank you, Ethan," George said quietly behind him. He shook his head, and said, trying to sound normal, "I'll talk to the twins for you. I don't think they'll listen to you." Ethan shrugged, hanging up his robes. "Evie might. Jacob won't, for sure. We had a bad relationship before. It's just going to get worse now."

 "He'll come around," George said as he walked up the stairs. "Hopefully," Ethan muttered, taking off his holster. He limped into his study, taking off his shirt and undershirt. Why he didn't go into the washroom to see his back in the mirror he didn't know. He sat down heavily in his chair, put his head on his desk, and fell asleep. 

* * *

 Ethan woke up to someone opening his door. He lifted his head to noticed George staring at him. Their met eyes for a moment, and George cleared his throat. "I should've knocked, sorry." Ethan stretched as best he could with his head on the desk. "It's fine." George shook his head. "Have you no shame, Ethan?" Ethan let out a chuckle. "Have I ever? Should I have shame now, George?" he asked intensely, and George huffed. "Ethan, you said-"

 "I know, I know," he said, waving his hand at him. "It'll take some getting used to, is all. Never really thought you'd be in love with me," Ethan said. "I mean, I am good looking, but-" he stopped when he noticed George watching him with an odd expression. "I'm sorry, go on."

 "There's nothing to get used to," George muttered, before raising his voice, "I talked to them. Evie understands. I don't know about Jacob. Give them some time before you try to explain yourself. Maybe they'll come to you when they're ready."

 "Thanks, George," Ethan said. "Wait," he called as George turned to leave. His friend turned. "This better not be-" 

 "It's nothing stupid," Ethan said. "I just wanted to say that your secret's safe with me."

 George stared at him for a moment, before mumbling something that might've have been thank you and left, closing the door behind him. Ethan watched the door for a moment, before lowering his head back down and trying to sleep.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't expect an upload schedule. They'll either be like two chapters a day or one every three weeks it all depends on my mood.

 Ethan's back never fully got better, and neither did his relationship with Jacob. Jacob had never loved Ethan on the same level as Evie did. He only ever thought that he came back to care for them because he had to, not because he loved them, and it was partly true. Learning that Ethan wished them dead after they were born had only reinforced that idea. 

 Evie, however, had come to Ethan a week afterwards to talk about it, which relieved Ethan greatly. He didn't think he'd be able to handle both of them hating him, especially Evie. She seemed to understand how much stress Cecily's death had placed on him, but she did feel betrayed, which Ethan understood. They quietly talked for an hour, the end consisting of Ethan begging Evie to try to make her brother understand, and then she left, leaving Ethan alone.

* * *

 

"So, what's the job today?" Evie asked as they followed Ethan along the roofs of Crawley. "Your first solo missions," Ethan said, carefully landing on a factory roof. He turned to them, smiling. "You're amazing Assassins, so I'm surprised that the Council waiting this long since your first mission with me." Both of their faces lit up at their father's praise, cheering up Ethan. He had even been restricted from missions due to his back, and, when it never healed properly, wasn't able to do any at all, despite it being well over two years ago. He kept trying to make his case to the Council and to George, but the flu he'd had a month ago did nothing to help. The cough also seemed unable to go away, and along with it, chest pains.

 "Evie, your target is a mill owner working with the Templars. He treats his workers horribly as well, so it's a perfect opportunity to get two birds with one stone. After you're finished, a member of the Order will take his place, and he'll brief you more when you meet him above the mill," he told her, patting her shoulder and turning to her brother. "Jacob, your target is the leader of a gambling den with connections with the Blighters and the Templars. Kill him and dismantle the operation. We don't need it to keep funding our enemies." He specifically choose this target for Jacob, as he knew his son's tendency to go and gamble at night. If Jacob knew and had been to the den, it would be a test of his loyalties. Would he follow the Assassins and kill the Templar? Or would he choose to stay his hand for the sake of adventure?

 Ethan handed Jacob a map. "The gambling den is somewhere near the school. I trust you'll be able to find it well enough with your Eagle Vision." He stepped back, regarding the twins proudly. "Head home after you're done. I have to go to Croydon." Jacob rolled his eyes. "Trying to convince ol' George to let you back on active duty?"

 "No," Ethan said, pausing to cough. "I'm trying to convince him to help me convince the Council to let me back on active duty. There's a difference." Jacob shrugged. "Whatever you say." Ethan coughed again, clutching his chest with one hand and waved the twins away with the other. "May the Creed guide you two, and please come home safe," he sputtered, and both twins exchanged a look. "We will," Evie said, patting Ethan on the shoulder, before turning to nod at her brother and heading off along the roofs. Jacob said nothing, just watched his older sister leave and turned and headed off in the opposite direction.

 Ethan waited until his coughing fit stopped, watching them go. He couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen, and he kept telling himself that the twins could protect themselves. They'd proven that more than once. Besides, they had both blades now, and were clearly capable of using them. He let out a rattling sigh that turned into a cough, and turned towards the rail yard, hoping he hadn't missed his ride to Croydon.

* * *

 He got to Croydon in the early afternoon, and he arrived to George's trying to stop coughing.  _Stupid cold,_ Ethan thought, knocking on George's door.  _I'm an Assassin. I don't get beaten by a little cough._

 George looked surprised to see Ethan, and Ethan was surprised he wasn't in his robes, only in his shirt and waistcoat. His hair was also messy. "I told you I was coming," Ethan said with a smirk, trying not to cough. "You never said when," George muttered, rubbing his eyes. "At least I'm awake." 

 "It's one in the afternoon, George. Did you really just wake up?" Ethan asked incredulous, following George to his study. "I did," George said, stifling a yawn. "I was up late last night, and I've been sleeping later then I normally do." He sat down heavily in his chair behind his desk. "I should really just retire fully, and let some other young Assassin watch over Croydon."

 "You do a great job," Ethan said, sitting down across from him. "Besides, once the twins are of age, they'll be able to do all of that. Except lead, of course," he said, leaning back in his chair. "You know that I lead the Assassins around London, and that one day I'll die. The twins won't be experienced enough to lead, despite there being, what, five of us around here? Four if I die? Anyway, you can probably guess what I'm trying to say," Ethan said, watching George lazily run a hand through his hair. "I already guessed I'd lead them after you," George said, dropping his hand. "I'm basically your second right now."

 "That gets that off my chest," Ethan said, letting out a small cough, pretending he was just clearing his throat. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on George's desk. "You can probably guess why I came." George lay his head on his desk. "No, Ethan. Can't you see that your back will not get better if you go prancing around killing Templars? The Council also sees your failure as a reason for your forced retirement." Ethan punched the desk. "Damn you. My back is never going to get better, but I can still hold myself in a fight. I can still help. Why can't they see that? Why can't  _you_ see that?" Ethan said as he broke into a coughing fit, and George lifted his head, looking at him in concern. "I thought you were over that cold."

 "I am," Ethan insisted, taking a deep breath, trying to stop the pain in his chest. He only succeeded in having another coughing fit. "This cough is just not going away," he managed, but George just shook his head. "It sounds worse than before."

 "It's _fine_ ," Ethan rasped, trying not to flinch at the pain in his chest. He looked over his shoulder out of the window, before turning back to George with a smile. "Hey. Let's spar." George shot him a look. "Ethan-"

 "Don't tell me to rest," Ethan said, standing up and leaning on George's desk. "I've rested too much lately." George still look hesitant, but Ethan knew he was getting to him. "Come on," he pressed, leaning closer to George. "It'll be like old times."

 George glanced down at the desk, before sighing, "Fine. Just don't push yourself." Ethan straightened up, pleased. "Don't worry, I won't. Besides, I never have to to beat you." George shot him a glare. "Are we sparing? Or do you just want to brag?" Ethan smiled, ruffling George's hair. "Sometimes you're so easy to annoy, you know that?" George grabbed Ethan's wrist, pushing his hand away as he stood up. "Sometimes you're so annoying, you know that?" Ethan wrapped an arm around George's shoulders. "I knew there was a reason we're such good friends," he purred. He let out a small cough as he pushed George towards the door. "Lead the way, o gracious host."

* * *

They stood in the yard, Ethan relishing the cold November air in his aching lungs. "So," he said, pulling up his hood, watching George put on his robes. "I'll let you go first. Let you have a  _chance_ of winning." George pulled up his own hood with a glare. "How very kind of you," he muttered sarcastically, before lunging with surprising speed for his age. Ethan blocked his first swing, surprised at George's power, before getting hit in the side.

 Ethan tried to kick him, but George caught it, shoving him off balance.  _Why am I so weak?_ Ethan thought, catching himself before George could knock him to the ground.  _I was fine a week ago._ George rammed into Ethan, jolting him out of his thoughts. Before he could right himself, George kicked him in the chest, knocking him over. Ethan lay, defeated, confused, as George dropped, pinning him with his knees. "I won," George said, mystified. "And it was  _easy._ " Ethan opened his mouth to rebuke, but instead put his arm over his mouth and had a coughing fit.

 Afterwards, he moved his arm, the sleeve of his robes speckled with blood. He stared at it, before twisting his arm to show George. He felt George still as he recognized it, and Ethan lowered his arm. Their eyes met, both wearing the same expression of worry and fear. "Well," Ethan rasped with a chuckle, pausing to cough. "I suppose you're right. I'm  _not_ okay." George shook his head sadly, running a hand down his face. "Why'd I let you convince me to spar?" Ethan smiled. "Because even you can't resist the idea of the old times." He paused to cough again. "That's a sign of our age, George.

 "Besides, you won," Ethan said, spreading his arms. "You've bested your teacher. Every student dreams of doing that." George shook his head again. "Not fairly." Ethan chuckled, running a hand up George's arm. "Look at you. You're forty-seven years old, but you're still about as powerful as you were at twenty-two." George watched Ethan's arm, growing still again. "No, I'm as strong as I am at forty-seven. You're as strong as you are at forty. A sick forty year old, anyway. You've gotten weak, Ethan. You really need to see someone." Ethan dropped his hand, sighing. "I suppose you're right," he rasped after a moment. "Return with me to Crawley. When the twins are done I'll make an appointment."

 "You better," George said, getting off him and helping him up. "Or I'll do it for you." Ethan smiled at him. "What, are you my dad now? I guess you are graying like he was, so maybe you are," he said smoothly, pushing down George's hood. George pulled it back up, scoffing. "Says you."

 "What is _that_ supposed to mean, Mister Westhouse?" he asked accusingly. George meekly shrugged, smiling. "Nothing, Mister Frye." He smacked him in the middle of his back, and Ethan let out a cough. "Come on, I don't want you to choke to death in my own yard." Ethan playfully hit him back, before heading off toward's the Croydon rail yard.

 


	16. Chapter 16

 Pleurisy. He had pleurisy.

 Ethan sat, staring at a point at the table, ignoring the physician.  _Goddammit._ His luck really had gone downhill since Cecily's death. He zoned back in just as the physician was telling George that, while people  _have_ died from pleurisy, it was a chest infection. If Ethan rested, he should recover.  _Should_. Expect the unexpected, he always said. He stared to pick at the table as George walked off to talk to the physician in private, and he jumped when he heard the back door open, and the twins walked into the dinning room laughing.

 "So, how was your day?" Ethan rasped, and Jacob sat down heavily. "Tiring. But exciting." Evie nodded. "It was fun." Ethan leaned back in his chair, glancing back into the hallway before quietly saying, "You'll be doing that more often. You'll either go together, or you'll go solo. I won't really be having a say in what you do anymore."

 "What? Why?" Evie asked, concerned. "I'll still help you plan for _future_ missions," Ethan said, pausing to cough. "But I won't really be sending you out on missions right now. George will be doing that." Jacob shrugged, taking off his glove and picking at his knuckles. "Fine by me. As long as I can still fight something." 

 "Why?" Evie asked again, and Ethan grew quiet. He started coughing, and Jacob looked up from his hand. "Sounds like you're about to cough up your lung. Are you okay?" Ethan shook his head, holding out his blood speckled sleeve. "No, I'm not."

 "He has pleurisy," George said from the doorway, and Ethan gestured at him. "There's your answer," he rasped, falling into another coughing fit. "What's that?" Jacob asked, dropping his hand and exchanging a concerned glance with Evie. "It's a chest infection," Ethan managed, pounding his chest. "You'll get better, right?" Evie asked, and Ethan grew silent again. "If he rests, yes," George said. "But there's still a chance he might-"

 "I'm going to die," Ethan said, cutting him off. Both of the twins stared at him, and Ethan suddenly wished he'd never told them. " _Might_ die," George said pointedly, and Ethan shrugged. "Let's face it, George. I'm forty-one. I'm going to die." 

 "You can't be sure Father," Evie insisted. "Please, just rest. You'll get better." Ethan sighed, which lead into a cough. "I will, for you two," Ethan rasped.  _But I'll make no promises._

* * *

 The next day Ethan stood in front of Cecily's grave, pulling the collar of his robes up to his chin. "I'll be with you soon, love," he mumbled, lifting his head when he heard hurried footsteps. "Hello, George," he rasped, and George jogged up beside him. "Finally, I found you."

 "Why'd you want to find me?" he asked, and George sighed. "You're supposed to be resting. So, of course, when you weren't, I decided to go get you." Ethan laughed, which turned into a cough. "You're a good friend."

 "Well, somebody's got to take care of you, and it's clearly not yourself," George retorted. He crossed his arms, looking down at Cecily's grave. "Why'd you come here?" 

 "I wanted to see her before I'm stuck dying in bed," Ethan answered, and George rolled his eyes. "Will you get over that dying thing? You'll get better if you rest."

 "George, he only had two examples of people who'd died of pleurisy, but they were well known names," Ethan rasped angrily. "What about all the nameless ones? How many people have died to this that are not important enough to note?"

 "Like you?" hissed George, and Ethan nodded. "Like me. I'm going to be one of the nameless dead." George let out an angry huff, but said nothing. "Besides," Ethan added softly, "I want to see her again." George relaxed next to him. "You never stopped loving her, did you?"

 "Of course!" Ethan said, before sinking into another coughing fit. "Why would I?" he managed to ask, and George shrugged. "Some people do, you know. They lose the one they love, grieve for a while, then go and knock up someone else." Ethan glared at him. "I'm not like that!"

 "I wasn't saying  _that_ ," George said calmly. "Just answering your question." Ethan let out a dark laugh. "Sometimes you're confusing, George" 

 "Oh, and who was it that taught me that?" he replied sardonically, turning to look at Ethan. "Was it you? Or was it Cecily?" 

 "I think it was yourself," Ethan answered smoothly. "After all, you're great at keeping secrets. Until, of course, someone presses." George quickly turned back to the grave. "At least you're not one of _those_ people," George mumbled, and Ethan shook his head. "It just confuses me, is all. How are you in love with  _me_ of all people? I've seen the women who've flirted with you. You were a lucky man, yet you never took any of them."

 "Because I don't like them," George said quickly. "It's like if anyone else flirted with you, but you never took them because you were in love with Cecily." 

 "That's different."

 "No, it's not. Or is it just different because I fell in love with a man?"

 "Yes, no, I don't know," Ethan hissed. "Why'd I bring it up?" George glared at him from the corner of his hood. "Because you're an asshole." 

 They went silent again, Ethan angry with himself, George ashamed of himself. After a while, George asked, "How did you get here?" Ethan let out a sigh. "Don't worry, I took a carriage."

 "Did you drive it?"

 Ethan stayed silent for a moment, then replied quietly, "Yes." George shook his head, and Ethan glared at him. "Come on, driving isn't bad." 

 "Still. I'll drive you home," George said. "And you can start resting." Ethan smiled at him. "Yes  _Father._ "

 "Stop it," George said angrily, but Ethan could tell that he was smiling. "Or I'll leave you just as my father did." Ethan nudged him. "You'd never do that." He turned smiling. "Race you to the carriage." George turned, sighing. "Ethan-"

 "I'm kidding," Ethan laughed. He sank into another coughing fit. "Let's go."

 


	17. Chapter 17

 Ethan spent the twins' twentieth birthday up in the eaves, alone. The twins tried to visit, but he waved them away. One day, perhaps, when he was feeling better, he'd let them in, to talk about his plans for them. But for now, he didn't want them wasting their time at his bedside. As he had learned with Cecily, it wasn't worth it.

 He nearly fell asleep, but jerked awake at the sound of the door opening. "I thought I told you two to stay downstairs," Ethan rasped, laying his head back down and closing his eyes. "It's me," George replied, and Ethan opened his eyes again. "Oh. That could still apply to you, you know."

 "I'll only be here for a bit," George said, sitting down in the chair next to the bed. "You say that every day," Ethan grumbled, coughing. "What's the news?" he managed to ask, turning to look at George.

 He noticed the flicker in George's eyes, but his friend didn't react any differently. "The Council still won't agree to any actions in this area." Ethan groaned, putting a shaking hand on his forehead. "Dammit. Why? The twins are ready; they  _know_ that." He punched the bed. "At this point we should just start missions without the Council's approval."

 George was silent for a moment, watching Ethan. After a moment, he asked, "What do you want the twins to do?"

 "Get them to London," he said confidently. He looked at George, noticing the hard look in his eyes. "They're ready George. More than ready. I feel that they can really change things, make a difference." He looked at the door, feeling that the twins-or at least Evie- was listening in. "They might be able to change the tides. They may be able to take London back."

 "You're really confident about their skills, aren't you?" George asked quietly, chuckling. "Are you sure they can take on a city full of Templars by themselves?" Ethan shook his head. "They'd have Henry and his spies."

 "So the three of them against a city of Templars," George said, sitting back. "One who can't even kill a man, mind you." 

 "We at least need them to go after the artifact," Ethan hissed. "That will not require _too_ much killing." George went silent again, and Ethan broke into another coughing fit. "This stupid infection," Ethan snarled, which lead into another coughing fit. "If I were well I'd do it myself."

 "So rest. You'll get better eventually," George said calmly, and Ethan sighed. "If only, George. If only." George shook his head. "I really wish you'd stop being so bleak about this," he muttered. "How are you feeling today?"

 "Like shit," Ethan rasped. "So, no different from yesterday." He could feel himself getting weaker, and it both pissed him off and scared him. He acted so calm talking about his death, but the closer he got the more he feared it. An Assassin should not fear death he told himself, but it never worked. "This wasn't the way I wanted to go."

 George stared at him in surprise. "You still remember that conversation?" Ethan nodded. "Of course. I really had my heart set on dying for the Order. You still think you'd have been dead by this point?" Ethan asked him, and George nodded. "Yup."

 "You look tired," Ethan rasped, changing the subject. "I was up late again. I only slept for about three hours last night," George said, closing his eyes. "So sleep," Ethan said, laying his head down. "You always fall asleep during your visits here, anyway." 

 "Do I?" George asked sleepily, and Ethan nodded. "I was waiting for when you'd start dozing off." George just hummed in response, and Ethan watched as his friend fell asleep. He could sleep as well, he supposed. However, he never usually slept long before he awoke in a coughing fit. So he lay awake, watching the wall, trying to plan.

* * *

 

 "You're here again," Ethan rasped as George walked in the next day. "Yes, I am." George walked over and sat down in the chair. "And you're going to have to deal with it."

 "Shit," Ethan muttered sarcastically. "Fetch the twins, would you? I need to talk to them," he told George, who looked at him in surprise. "I thought you didn't want them to see you." Ethan sat up, smiling. "I'm feeling a little stronger today. Besides, I suppose they should be able to see me sometimes. I don't want to leave them in the dark." George stood up and walked towards the door. "If you say so."

 He glanced back before he left, saying, "If they flinch, don't take it personally. It'll be their first time seeing you like this." He left before Ethan could respond. Ethan watched the door for a moment, confused.  _Do I really look sick?_ he asked himself. "Well, probably," he answered out loud. He was dying. Of course he'd look the part.

 Ethan grabbed his watch from the bedside table, opening it and pulling out the small picture of Cecily he had put in.  _I'll give this to the twins_ , Ethan decided, putting it back and placing the watch back on the table when he heard footsteps.  _If I don't, I'll ask George to. They need to see their mother._

George opened the door and walked over to the chair. The twins followed, standing near the door, Jacob closing it behind him. "Don't give me that look," he snapped, noticing the pity and grief in their eyes. "I'm not bloody dead yet. You too, George," he said, turning to him. "Don't think I haven't seen you watching me." George raised his eyebrows, the only sign of his surprise, as Evie asked, "What did you want, Father?"

 "I've written to the Council about you two," Ethan explained. "I've told them that you are ready, and that it is time to act. But, the Council probably will not agree. So you two need to be ready to act by yourselves,  _without_ the Council." Jacob scoffed, exchanging an amused glance with Evie. "Good. Nobody to hold us back."

 "Does that mean we're going to London?" Evie asked, turning back to him. Ethan nodded. "Hopefully, yes. When we hear about the artifact, you two will go after it. Maybe it'll take you to London." He sat back again, coughing. "However, we can't rule out that they took the artifact to another country."

 "According to Henry Green, it may still be with the British Templars," George explained. "He still hasn't gotten confirmation, though."

 "Good," Ethan rasped. "You two should see some more action soon." He waved them away. "Now leave me. I don't want you here for too long, just in case." Both of them nodded and quickly left. Ethan watched them sadly, then started in surprise when George stood up. "Where are you going?" Ethan asked as George walked towards the door. "I have a target here," George said. "I told the twins they'd help me."

 "Oh," Ethan said, missing the thrill of the missions he ran, both with his family and with his friend. "Tell them to be careful." George nodded as he opened the door. "Of course," he said, and he left, leaving Ethan alone again.

 


	18. Chapter 18

  _He could still remember the first day he'd met her._

_It was the day of his blooding, and Ethan had decided to go out drinking to celebrate. It was late, and he knew he should be at home resting for any mission he got the next day, but he couldn't. He was too excited, and he figured he might as well do something about his energy._

_When he got to the pub, it was packed, as always, and he made his way to the corner of the room. He liked behind in the corner. Sure, he was at a disadvantage in a fight, but he'd be able to see if one started, and just keep an eye on everyone in the room._

_A young woman, maybe a year older than himself, was standing near him, watching the room. She looked uncomfortable, like she wasn't used to the crowd. "Hey," Ethan asked, and she looked at him in surprise._ That's kind of cute.  _"Are you from around here?"_

_She was quiet for a moment, probably wondering if she should answer him. "Kind of," she answered quietly, looking around the room. "I live out of town." Ethan smiled. "I see. Not used to the night life in Crawley, are you?" The woman let out an amused snort. "Not much of a night life though, is it?"_

_Ethan shrugged, glancing around the room. "Just you wait, it'll get lively in a moment." The woman cast a somewhat nervous glance at Ethan. "What do you mean by that?" Ethan took a sip from his drink, smiling. "You'll see."_

_Most of the people in the pub were factory and mill workers, those who worked late hours and wasted what little pay they had on drink. Not that it accounted to much, but Ethan found that, usually, it made for a more exciting night. "Feel that?" Ethan asked her, and she titled her head to the side. "What do you mean?"  Ethan gestured around the room. "The general atmosphere. Sure, people are having a good time, but it's tense." The woman stared at him for a moment, before looking around the room. "I see," she said, looking back at him. "But, what does that mean?" Ethan smirked. "I told you to wait. It'll happen soon enough." He glanced at the bar, watching a tense, tired young man who was being badgered by an older, richer man. "It might be sooner then I thought."_

_Not long after, the young man stood up and slammed his elbow into the older man's face. The reaction was instantaneous. The woman stared at the rising brawl, then at Ethan. "Oh, shit," she breathed, and Ethan laughed, taking a sip of his drink. "They're here to make something interesting of their dull lives," he said, glancing at his now empty mug. "That man has chosen to make tonight a little more interesting."_

_"Like that?" the woman asked, incredulous, but Ethan ignored her, whipping the mug at a bloke standing in front of him. That was another good part about being an Assassin- it gave you an advantage in bar fights. The man turned to him, and Ethan smirked. The man ran at him, but Ethan just dropped low and tossed him over his shoulder onto the table behind him. He turned, and slammed his fist into the man's face, again and again until he stopped moving._

_"Who's next?" he asked, turning back around to the crowd. The man who had started the fight was staring at him from across the room, and their eyes met for moment. He was tired, sure, but there was something else in his eyes, like he relished the fight. He looked like he wanted to try to take on Ethan, but the bartender stepped in front of the man and easily pinned him against the bar. Ethan debated helping or not as another man walked over, brandishing a knife._ _"We're using knives now, are we?" Ethan mumbled, flicking out his blade. The man said nothing, swinging his knife._

 _The swing was horribly aimed and he nearly tipped over on the follow through._ Well, at least he's drunk enough to forget my blades,  _Ethan thought as he easily grabbed the man and pinned him against the wall. He held up his blade, pointing it at his throat, as he heard a small gasp next to him. He glanced over at the woman, who had her hands over her mouth. Ethan quickly disengaged his blades and punched the man in the head. He let him drop, and he turned back to the woman. "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have-"_

_"Where did you get those?" she asked exictedly, pointing at his blade, and Ethan glanced down at his arm. "Oh, this? Well-" he stopped, before looking back up. "Care to take a walk with me?" She stared at him, suspicious. "Where to?"_

_"Anywhere but here," Ethan answered, glancing around. The fight was dying off, just a few struggles here and there. The man who started it was still pinned, being berated by the bartender. "What's your name, dear?" He asked as he turned back to her. She was quiet for a moment, watching him. "Cecily."_

_"Well, Cecily," Ethan purred, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "I'm going to change your life."_

* * *

 "Do you still remember the day we met?" Ethan asked George as he walked in one day. George cast him a look. "Of course. How could I forget one of the most interesting moments in my life?" Ethan shrugged. "I was just wondering. People do have a tendency to forget things not important to them. But, I guess it was an important day for you," he rasped, and George sat down heavily. "I nearly got mugged and was saved by a egotistic killer. That's very important," he said, and Ethan shook his head. "Not in that way, George."

"I'm not even going to ask," George said after a moment, picking at his sash. "I don't think you need to," Ethan said with a smile. "Wait, you had a tendency to start bar fights, right? To make things interesting?" George nodded. "I never won any, though. And I also got banned from one of the only pubs in town," he recalled, rubbing his jaw. "I don't think I am anymore, though."

 "Well, I think I was there when you got banned," Ethan said with a smile. George glanced at him. "I nearly went out every night I was able to, and most of the times I started a fight. So chances are, if you were in a bar fight, I was there."

 "I thought I recognized you from around town when I helped you," Ethan purred, laying back in his bed. He flexed his hand, missing the familiar weight of his Hidden Blade. He missed it so much. It was almost like being without a limb.

 George was rolling his shoulder, wincing. "Why'd you ask if I remembered?" he asked, and Ethan shrugged. "I've just been thinking about those days. The good days." He paused for a moment, coughing. "About the time before Cecily's death."

 "Oh," George said, still poking his shoulder. "I should've guessed that." Ethan sighed. "That's what happens when you're going to die. You remember when you felt alive." To his surprise, George didn't argue. He just kept checking his shoulder with almost obsessive attention. "You've accepted it now, haven't you? That I'm going to die?" Ethan asked him, and George dropped his arm, but kept looking at his shoulder. "Let's just say you don't look far from death's door, Ethan." Ethan quickly ran a hand down his face. "I feel like it." 

 He shook his head. "Let's not dwell on dark thoughts, hm? I do that enough when I'm alone." He nodded at George's shoulder. "Why are you so obsessed with that shoulder all of a sudden?" George rolled it again. "I landed on it hard last time I was out," he hissed in pain. "It's not like I had enough joint problems."

 "How was your mission with the twins?" Ethan asked. "Are they faring well?" George nodded. "They could be better." Ethan glanced at him. "Sounds like there's something bugging you."

 "They're just _reckless_ ," George said carefully, crossing his arms. "A bit like you were." Ethan sank into a coughing fit, managing to ask, "How so?"

 "They think they're unstoppable, to put it bluntly. Jacob's put himself in danger more times then I can count, but at least Evie knows to stay hidden," George said with a sigh. "You really need to speak with them."

 "Why?" Ethan rasped, and George looked at him in surprise. " _Why?_ Because they're your _children,_ Ethan. What the fuck will you do with yourself if they go off and get themselves killed?" Ethan huffed.  _I've been thinking about that too much lately._ "Well, if they make a mistake, they'd learn, like I did." 

 "They won't learn if they're dead," George snapped, and Ethan threw his hands up. "Why don't you talk to them, then? Jacob is far more likely to listen to you than to me." George laughed. "No, he doesn't listen. He's so-what's the word- _volatile,_ when it comes to telling him to change his ways." He shook his head. "I'd have an easier time convincing you that you're not dying than to tell Jacob to cool down."

 "Would you now?" Ethan muttered darkly. "Why do we always end up arguing over simple stuff?" he asked, sinking into a coughing fit. George shrugged. "Because we know it's not personal, maybe. Or maybe you just love being difficult." 

 "Oh, I'm difficult?" Ethan asked, rolling his eyes. "You're the one who usually shoots me down." George braced his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his hands. "If I shoot you down, it's because what you're saying is stupid at best, or absolutely suicidal at worse." Ethan gestured at him. "See? You're shooting me down again." George just stared at him for a moment, before leaning back and breaking into laughter. "I guess I am."

 Ethan started laughing, which quickly led into another coughing fit. "I'm going to miss you," George said quietly as his laughter died down. Ethan sighed, meeting George's eyes, who looked like he was about to cry. "I'd miss me, too." Realizing that was a bit stupid to say, he glanced back down at the bed sheets, feeling dizzy. "I'm going to miss you, too." 


	19. Chapter 19

 "You look-"

 Ethan glanced at George, who stood in the doorway, and he seemed to be thinking about what to say. "-horrible," he finished finally, slowly stepping in and closing the door behind him. "What's new?" Ethan rasped weakly. "Are you okay?" George asked as he sat down, and Ethan tried to shrug. "No better than normal."

 He sank into another coughing fit, George watching him worriedly. "It's getting hard," Ethan gasped, flopping down on his pillow, "to keep on trying." George titled his head to the side. "To keep on trying what?" he asked softly, like he knew the answer. Ethan glanced at him and rasped. "Trying to live."

 George leaned back and stared out the window, and Ethan turned his head to look at the bedside table. His watch lay there, untouched except for when he placed a letter underneath a couple of weeks ago. It was his will, in a way. He had just written about how sorry he was for what he'd done in his life, and for the twins to have the house, but more importantly, the picture of their mother he kept in his watch. On the bottom of it, he had quickly scrawled that he wanted George to have his revolver, as he didn't really want the twins to be fighting over it. Besides, he didn't want to leave  _everything_ for the twins; he owed George something, too, for having put up with him all those years.

 Ethan turned back to George, who was still watching the window with an unreadable expression. "Do you regret anything?" he asked, and George glanced down at him. "What?"

 "Do you regret anything in your life? And if so, would you change it if you had the chance?" Ethan repeated, coughing.  _It keeps getting harder to breathe._ George shrugged. "I suppose I do regret some things. And I would go back and change them if I could." Ethan blinked in surprise. "Really? I thought you weren't the type to change things." George laughed. "I wouldn't, if they weren't so personal to me."

 "What sort of personal?" Ethan asked, and George went silent. "Like, your mother's early death?" 

 "That for one," George muttered, picking at his sash like he always did when he was uncomfortable. "Maybe have a better father. Maybe be born rich, so I didn't have to work in the mill as a child." He shook his head. "Part of me regrets becoming your friend. I had my life planned out before you showed up," he added when he noticed Ethan's face. "I was certain I'd have worked in that mill until I died, but now I don't know how I might die. A bullet maybe, or the knife of a Templar. Retirement doesn't take you out of the Templar's list of targets."

 "I guess you're right," Ethan rasped. "Nothing else?" George shrugged again, focusing more on his sash. "Not big things. What about you?" he asked Ethan, changing the subject. "What do you regret?" Ethan lay back and stared at the ceiling. "Running away from my children, letting my grief get the best of me, all that. I should have taken the time to get to know them before running away, even if I wanted them dead." He let out a deep sigh that quickly changed into a cough. "I wasted six years without them, six years I'll never be able to get back." He turned back to look at George, who'd dropped his sash, but he still stared at the point between his hands where it'd been. "And that is my biggest regret."

 "Damn, mine sound stupid now," George grumbled, and Ethan shook his head. "Not at all, Georgie. Not at all." George dropped his arms and titled his head back, sighing. "I'm actually going to miss hearing you call me that. I know, I'm as surprised as you," he added as Ethan blinked. "I hate whenever someone calls me that, yet I'll still miss  _you_ calling me that. Odd." 

 "You know damn well why you'll miss it," Ethan rasped. "It's the same reason you miss you mother calling you that." George chuckled. "She only called me that on occasion. You, however, tend to call me that whenever you want to annoy me."

 "Maybe I should keep calling you that," Ethan said. "I don't know how much time I have left, but I need to make up all those months of being nice and not annoying." George crossed his arms and rested his head on his shoulder. "Whatever keeps you happy, Ethan," he mumbled sleepily, and Ethan smiled. "Goodnight, George."

 George said nothing, and Ethan watched as his friend fell into a deeper sleep. He was always so peaceful, and Ethan never wanted to wake him. Besides, if George always fell asleep on his visits here, that meant he probably wasn't sleeping at home, and Ethan would rather watch him sleep then have his friend become an exhausted mess. Messes were usually no help to the Brotherood; he knew from experience.

 "I'll miss these days," Ethan rasped to himself, partly hoping George would hear him. "Almost as much as I miss the old days with Cecily. I've been complaining, but it's not so bad, especially with you here. I've tried to keep you away, because I don't want you staying by my bedside as much as I don't want the twins to, but you've kept coming anyway. I enjoy our talks." He sank into another coughing fit, finding it harder to breathe again. "You've been a great friend, George. I'll miss you."

 Another coughing fit overtook him, stronger this time, and Ethan found that he couldn't breathe at all. Every time he tried, he would just cough again.  _Choking to death. Great,_ he thought weakly.  _Really not how I wanted to go._

 _Jacob, Evie, I'm sorry. Please forgive me,_ he thought, and the world went dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter in Ethan's pov, but it's not the last chapter.


	20. Chapter 20

 The twins had returned to Crawley.

 They stood, silent, over their father's grave, grief not dampening the sense of victory they still had from killing Starrick a couple days prior. Perhaps leaving so soon, while the London Templars were still hungry for blood, was a bad idea, but Evie insisted they'd visit. Jacob relented, knowing that it was their father's wish for them to head to London- might as well come see him after it was all said and done. But talking to graves, to dead people, wasn't really either of their styles, so they just stared.

 "You're back," George grumbled behind them, and the twins glanced at each other before turning back to face him. He looked no different from when they left, except maybe a little more scruffy, and there was a dark look in his eyes that had been hidden the last time they talked. Jacob scoffed, smiling. "You can go to London without fear now."

 "Maybe a little bit of fear," Evie interjected, glancing at Jacob. "Some Templars are still inside, wanting Assassin blood." Jacob glanced at her. "Mostly our blood, though, so you should be fine." George said nothing, and the twins glanced at each other again. Evie let out an awkward sigh. "We're sorry for leaving," she muttered, and Jacob glanced at her in surprise. "I'm not. Sometimes, being patient can mean the difference between life or death, or, in this case, free will or corruption." He returned George's stare with a challenging one of his own. "I feel we did the right thing, no matter what any Council or Master thinks. Punish us if you must, but in the end we saved all of your asses."

 "Ethan would be proud," George said, smiling faintly. "He was right; you two did make a difference." Jacob and Evie glanced at each other again, before Evie stepped closer to George. "You lied to us about our father's wishes. You knew that he didn't want that. You know that he told us himself he wanted us in London. Yet, you still lied. Why?"

 George met her gaze, then lowered his head. "You two are the last things I have of my friends. Part of me worries every time you go out on a mission that you'll never come back. I'd have felt like I failed Ethan if that happened." He let out a dark laugh, looking at the grave behind them. "It's stupid, isn't it? A Master Assassin, fearing death." 

 "Father would've understood," Evie said quietly, glancing back at the grave. "But that doesn't change the fact you tried to use his memory against us." George sighed. "I know, that was wrong. I regret that. I don't think I'd do that again."

 " 'Don't think?' "Jacob echoed, stepping up beside his sister. "What, no certainty?" George shrugged. "I've been a bit, off, ever since your father's death." Jacob scoffed, and Evie cast him an annoyed glance. "I can tell."

 "You've always been quite perceptive," George muttered. "Your father always used to call me paranoid, and I think-"

 "Since his death, it's gotten worse," Jacob cut him off, and Evie smacked his shoulder. "Jacob! Can you be any less considerate?" Jacob cast her a sly glance. "Do you want me to try?" Evie shook her head. "That wasn't a challenge, idiot." George laughed. "You two, you're almost like Ethan and I when we argued." He sighed again, shaking his head. "Your father meant a lot to me. His death was..." he dropped off, again staring at the grave behind them.

 Jacob had learned somethings about himself while in London. It was something he wasn't particularly found of, but after a while, when he started to think it over, he realized it wasn't so bad. If it was as horrible as they all said, why should he care? He'd done a lot of stuff that could land him in hell at this point- liking men didn't change that. Part of him thought he could never mention it, maybe someday trying to talk to Evie about it, but knowing she wouldn't understand. Maybe he found someone else to talk to instead.

 "I know that feeling," he muttered quietly, remembering Roth. At least Ethan died naturally. George glanced up at him, surprised, with the faintest hint of fear in his eyes. Evie had noticed, and she glanced between them. She shook her head, sighing. "You probably didn't just come to apologize, did you?"

 George shook himself, collecting himself. "No." He pulled a watch out of his pocket, which confused Jacob. George's watch was hanging off his robes-why would he be carrying another one? George walked over and dangled it between them. "Your father wanted you to have this." He dropped it into Evie's hand, and the twins quickly pressed together as Evie opened it. 

 It was their father's watch-simple, some scratches from wear. Inside there was a picture of a young woman, who appeared to be around the twins' age. She looked similar to Evie. Jacob quickly grabbed the picture, flipping it over when he noticed the shadow of pencil marks. It was their father's weak, sick scrawl, and Jacob could just make out 'Your mother'.

 Jacob lowered the picture, exchanging a glance with Evie. He glanced back at the older headstone next to their father's, holding out the picture. "Cecily Frye," Evie mumbled next to him. "Mother," Jacob whispered back, staring at the picture. She was beautiful, just like his sister. As he always did when he was told about her, Jacob wondered what his life would've been like if she had survived. Ethan would've never run away, that was for sure. They'd have been a family, other than, what Jacob felt, two students and a teacher.

 He felt like he was going to cry, so he quickly dropped the picture and put it back into the watch. "What'd he leave you, huh?" Jacob joked, turning back to George. "Dust? A piece of paper?" 

 "An entire branch of Assassins to watch over," he muttered. He shot them a sad smile, patting one side of his chest were his holster was. "And his revolver." Jacob glanced at Evie. "Well, at least he didn't just decide to dump his stress on you," Evie said, stretching. George laughed. "He apparently only left it to me as he felt you two were going to fight over it."

 Jacob walked over to him and pat him on the shoulder. "Poor you. His best friend, and he only left you the scraps." Evie shoved Jacob. "Father would kill you if he heard you calling his revolver worthless." 

 "Oh, really?" Jacob said with a smirk. He turned back to the grave and yelled. "You hear that, old man? Your revolver is shit!" All three of them went quiet for a moment. When there was no other sound other than the wind in the trees, Jacob pivoted to face his sister and shrugged. "Nope. I live for another day." Evie laughed, shoving him again. "Maybe his vengeful spirit will come and strangle you in the night." Jacob smiled. "And my death gets turned into another one of those Ghost Club cases? No thanks."

 "You two have a lot to talk about, don't you?" George asked, clasping his hands behind his back. "Oh, yes," Evie said with a nod. "But we shouldn't stay too late today. We've got to do more stuff in London." 

 "Greenie can do that," Jacob insisted. "I'd rather tell stories." He wrapped an arm around George's shoulder. "Let's head to our place, and I'll tell you about why you can- and should- call me Sir Jacob Frye." George glanced at him. "You got  _knighted?_ How?" Evie jumped up on his other side, smiling. "If we told you now, it'd spoil the story."

 "Fine," George grumbled. He pushed Jacob off him. "Lead the way  _Sir_ Frye, _Dame_ Frye." Jacob exchanged a cheeky smile with Evie. "Gladly."

 Together they walked off, leaving their father behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was really fun to write, and I'm kind of upset at myself for not making more chapters, but I still have some fics to write for this series. the first chapter to Childhood is already up, and I should be updating Brotherhood sometime soon, hopefully.


End file.
